Scarecrow (a poem)

the filthy-bearded man greets me

at six a.m., looking for a friend

he speaks gibberish, not knowing

where he is, how he arrived

at my steps, as i step back

he’s unmasked, skinny like an

old, crusted scarecrow with

scared eyes and smeared jeans

Continue reading

The Day my Brother was Born (a poem)

The day my brother was born, I was torn –

already 16 years old

on the cusp of college & adult life

he was so precious

he kept me close to home

in mind & soul

even though the family fell apart

I keep him close to my heart

worry about him, but know that

he’s my blood & I’d go to the gates of Hell

to protect him.

(Photo by Kylo on Unsplash)