Down the Eaves

curled up on the porch my cheek resting upon my tear-soaked hands the rain pounding down the roof and yet all I can think about is the sound of your voice caressing me and how I long to feel your body pressed against my skin and your fingers threading in my hair as our lips…

Scarlet Letter

Stones in my hands Coals for eyes Back ramrod straight Cardboard shoulders Stockings run Bloody knees ‘Neath a skirt torn Heft the weight Breathe deep Take aim A sobbing call for justice Memory fades out Remembering His hands upon my flesh Squeezing as I shuddered His fist in my hair pulling Exposing my throat to…