Category Archives: Poetry

from Dr. Zhivago, or the 40’s film noir epic. It means victorious, like laurel wreaths.  An overcomer.  Epic.   I could have been Holly or Angela or Christina because I was born on Christmas Day. 

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I was teaching but I went to the movie Mamma Mia, ten times, just to get him off my mind.   My mind was on the porch where he said, you will be back you

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I have been her kind.  – Anne Sexton     Who doesn’t trade her scholarship for cucumber facials, herbal essences, or swap recipes and gossip.   Whose wrist doesn’t drip with bling and grandmother’s wedding

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From the beginning the deck spoke as if we were well enough acquainted. We had no reason to withhold.   Shuffled till they must have lost all reference, all relevance, the same cards kept coming

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The dolls only move when you’re not looking. They wait til deep in the night.   I am an action figure as fragile as a peppermint stick and as easy to dissolve.   The music

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  The sound of footsteps in the sound of footsteps. Stop and listen. Nothing.   Start, they start; stop, they stop. Strain to hear.          Where nobody goes   look over the shoulder for what just

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The demon perched on the child’s chest And whispered doom into his ear. A shriek! then sobs and no more rest: The demon perched on the child’s chest In pitch dark. With a hellish zest

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The sweet song of the dead as their hands hold shy flowers to their nonexistent faces   I hand you a long rose and you take it, scratch your slender finger on a thorn you

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Shovelfuls of earth thump, thump, thump onto a coffin; inside, frantic gasps for the vestiges of oxygen rationed by your subterranean prison.   So speak, shriek scream, yell, you will still be trapped in a

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“Ah my dear, have no fear,” Snarled the stranger in the night, Whose lupine eyes could mesmerize Any creature in their sight; “For I have only just returned From my Transylvanian flight, When I spied

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