Fire falls from the skies
Continue reading “Final Breath (a tanka)” →
Doomsday is here, we’re ready
Accept bitter ends
Whisper prayers, dream of death
Let go of the final breath
The woman sits at the window
she’s always there, she stares
at the outside world
her sallow skin a testament to an indoor existence
terrified to leave the ivy-covered house like
a cat that fears and is fascinated by the outdoors.
Continue reading “The Woman at the Window (a poem)” →
Where do those neighbors get their money?
They’re up late on weeknights, drinking beer,
playing games in the street – the young woman
has glazed eyes, she’s always stoned;
the boyfriend doesn’t have a care
in the world, in a world
where so many are dying
and a feeling of impending doom
clutches us by the throat.
(Photo by Mika Baumeister on Unsplash)