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Poetry For the Epilogue

Bertram Fitzgerald never found out I wrote him poetry. Across the street, Bertram would work at…

He’s Right Behind You

We’d go out around one. Climbing through bedroom windows, we’d try to land softly on bushes…

I Don’t Trust Gin

I don’t trust ginit really winds me upit grinds my gearsand never fails to half-empty my…

yes

the problem child is an enemy of glassall of the breaks and chips and scrapes and…

The Enemy Of Glass

yesthe problem child is an enemy of glassunless it was yours toowouldn’t the chains on the…

The cam after a storm

In wake of evening tempest’s dying cry,A flower field sways in the passing rain,Battered yet safe,…

Happiness Hurts

Previously published in The Graveyard Zine They say happiness feels like the warmth of daylight seeping…

Doll House

Previously published by Rewrite the Stars Review Did you enjoy sitting around with empty cups of…

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