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“Why burn bridges?” my cousin asks me, on the snowy globe of his mother’s home. How can he see, as he stands tall like a king, that he is only a court jester? All I did was set the match ablaze and toss it in front of me to expose the puddles of gasoline that…
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What is something you wish you could tell your 20-year-old self? You really don’t have to…
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There is a woman Like a barrel-breasted fish If you asked She’d tell you I’m a bitch I love her, though and that’s a fact Your girl can play Tit for tat
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“Just curious…” my mother ends her question with an addendum. The answer to her question is six weeks… Six weeks from when he came to the front desk, where I was stationed at work, and said he wanted to disappear into the Green Mountains, and I replied, “Take me with you.” She wanted to know…
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They tried to keep me here. It’s all I can think of sometimes as I sift through the silverware drawer that used to be mine, in what used to be my home. It’s like entering a time capsule, one in which nothing has changed, as if two people haven’t become ghosts. I sometimes find myself…
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Listen, pay attention Something to mention When you’re quiet When you’re still You hear the truth A useful skill Let them Tattle Let them Tale On themselves It never fails
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The dandelions glowed like the sun as the rays bounced from their yellow tufts. I sat and watched as they swayed alongside the thick, tall grass, whooshing in the wind. The trees hovered overhead as if they were eavesdropping on my thoughts. I’ve never sat in this particular spot, behind the big red barn of…
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Oh little bird where is your cage? You ripped the bars open with rage The blood from your feathers left a stain Now only a shadow of you remains Oh little bird I see how you soar They can’t cage you anymore
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I like listening to the house. The strangle little clicks, soft humming from the depths beneath me. I sit here in the dark, feeling imaginary hands around my ankles, as if I’m being haunted. Creaking wood cries out and I respond that fear never wins. The windows rattle with the wind as I sit in…
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You have a box? So do I… Mine stacks up to the sky. A pile of love balanced on pain I want to erase every name Forgotten many Buried a few Oh, if you only knew…
Sharon Rose 