The quilt was wrapped tightly around me but the shiver gripped.

a wind came beneath the door and the cracks of the wood,the cabin was ramshackle but it was home.

The fire was out, peculiar

and across the room handsomes pallet lay empty.

The cold moved from my limbs to my heart I felt a dread that I pushed off like the quilt.

Heavy, scratchy, discarded to the floorboards.

it was yesterday morning handsome left, we needed meat.

The winter had been hard the weather brutal and animals had become  scarce and skinny. Starving, like us.

Handsome took the last loaf of the bread I’d made. I stared at the table where the few crumbs trailed its edge.

Licking my finger I drew it across the measly trail and touched the crumbs to my lips.

at the door a piece of crust hung

Ensnared in a web

dangling like a lure

I moved forward.

Wasteful handsome,

I felt the warm rage rise from my empty belly. flinging open the door to see pieces of my beautiful loaf frozen atop the snow.

the shoes I had were from two winters ago, the place for my toes thin the snow bit at them.

Following behind where my brother traipsed, I could see him in my mind.

Tearing chunks by the fist

Pieces still warm falling from his mouth.

I plucked a larger piece from atop a drift at the trails start.

looking down the way I saw a crow

working at a piece

dirtied in a shoe print.

Furiously I ran towards it but the crow lifted off taking the piece in its beak.

As I crouched there a wave of nostalgia hit. I thought of my younger self, following along behind handsome.

slingshot in hand

the woods had been thriving then.

you could hunt for sport if you wanted.

I was determined to keep up,

My bare feet calloused from running over rocks and ramble to get the shot.

The sun had risen higher but provided no warmth. I was rustled from my thoughts by a cloth flapping in the wind. A lone drop of color in the white washed world, snagged on the limb of a tree.

The trail ahead lay untouched, I looked to see that the last of handsomes footprints stopped here where I stood.

Why would he leave the trail…

The dread was back and harder to cast aside as the cloth sparked recognition.

A faded piece of my summer dress we had cut to a rag when the dress was all but rags itself.

I remembered wrapping the bread,

a small attempt to keep its heat,

Placing it in handsomes hands.

It wasn’t a choice really.

I veered off into the trees heading for the cloth.

if handsome could get through this way so could I. The obstinance of my youth pushing me forward.

The woods were dense

I’d lost the trail of footprints a while back

As new snow began to fall.

Any crumbs left had been picked over by whatever creatures remain in this desolate.

The bare sticks began to look appetizing and there in the distance I heard it..

the crow

The thieving crow!

that had taken the last of the bread.

I walked towards its cawing hoping I could return the favor, and stumbled into a clearing.

Without the shield of the trees the wind battered at me with a vengeance the snow picked up.

I would not last much longer here and I meant to turn around but the smell…

Wafting across the clearing

I turned to see a cabin.

my view partially obscured by the treeline I saw the crow disappeared down the chimney. I stood aghast at what would surely be his end.

My mind only thought of one thing

Food.

I would tell the occupants of their good fortune.

hopefully be invited in to share the bird.

After all they wouldn’t know it was stuck there if it wasn’t for me..

My thoughts moving quicker than my feet as I approached the cabin.

It seemed to bustle with life

Candles shined bright from the windows. I could practically feel the warmth as I drudged the stairs.

As I lift my hand to knock the door opened with a small creak.

“Hello” I called from the door way

Is anyone…

I was cut off by a woman older than sin itself

“Shut the door deary, you’re letting the cold in.”

She shuffled, in slippers much too big for her feet towards me.

“You’re just in time for dinner deary just in time.”

her voice was sweet and high pitched.

I couldn’t fathom how welcoming she’d be to a total stranger.

“ I was lost I started, I thought I could come in until the snow settled..”

“Yes stay as long as you’d like deary

Stay forever!”

She cackled with a gurgle in her throat that seemed to never clear.

“There was a crow ma’am stuck in your chimney.. I.. “

“Oh never mind him he comes and goes she winked, take off those wet socks dear you’re making a puddle.”

The woman was already setting the table for two.

the cabin was so full of furniture and portraits,lamps and candles. objects I didn’t even have names for! she continued shuffling about while I took off my wet garments.

“Come sit dear come sit”

This all seemed so strange to me

so out of place.

a warning began

small in my stomach, but was swiftly crowded out by the grumbling.

So I sat, in the little chair with the red cushion. it was then I noticed the crow high on a bookshelf peering down at me.

“How did…” again I was cut off by the woman pulling the biggest ham bone I’d ever seen from her oven.

My mouth watered at the sight.

I’d been living off scraps for so many days.

I could have torn the meat from the bones in that instant. but my manners I mustn’t forget them.

“Goodness my lady you must have butchered your finest pig.”

I said as she doled a portion onto

My plate.

The carving knife sliced through as butter she smiled broadly at me.

“Eat up deary you’re a scrawny thing aren’t ya.”

She continued carving herself a piece and a small bit of gristle for the crow. who dashed down from the bookshelf upsetting a glass in his wake.

“How absurd, I proclaimed.

watching as the crow took his portion to the far side of the table.

The woman just laughed in that gutteral way.

“ do you like the seasons deary ? I grew them myself.” she motioned towards the window where a potted rosemary sat in the sill.

“Delicious yes, I said speaking around my

Mouthful.”

Yes we’ll be set for the winter now won’t we Edwin she said.

eyeing the crow who flung the last bit into the air catching it with his beak and cawed loudly in reply.

“Yes deary it was..a most handsome catch.”

How this came from the words you gave me, don’t ask it appeared in my mind this morning :))

most of them don’t.

I’ve heard stories of skylights at the top of the ship

-I don’t believe it though

When I first arrived I found it impossible to sleep

everything feels out of alignment

always dark

the electricity blinks in and out.

entire hallways

entire sides of the ship.

I only see the sky when I go inside my mind

Lying in my twin I stare at the ceilings cool metal frame and listen…

the cicadas begin first

my eyes close and I’m transported

I’m on top of my mother’s shoulders

pointing up exclaiming

“the big spoon the big spoon!”

I can feel her smile

I know it’s there though I can’t see her face

“The Big Dipper” she says and the smile moves

from her voice up through my shoes, traveling at light speed.

That was before the sky fell.

It wasn’t one catastrophic day.

the atmosphere fell in large masses

some days many

some small

some taking whole cities

it’s a process, remembering it all -

a catharsis

on the nights I cry the droplets fog my face shield

and reminds me of rain.

I have made it a point to be one of the few that remember.

Some of the youngest aboard have only known the ship

so I tell them stories

I tell them about books, how words said aloud could fill page after blank page so you’d never forget.

About magic! About trees

About solid ground and water for miles.

Water so far it touched the sky at the horizon

when there was a sky.

I believe the world outside of this ship

is much like my mother’s smile.

Something you cannot see, but you know that it’s there

the spaghettification of my thoughts yank me towards what I know

while simultaneously compressing me

within the narrow walls of what humanity has become.

what I know for certain is

the same way I felt her joy

is the way I feel the darkness.

the vast empty limitlessness

We are no where

There is no “where” to be.

alright kudos Robert this was the hardest lineup so far ! I tried to do spaghettification justice for you !

unsplash photo by Katy

real silver with creeping vines to their necks

fruit soldered to their handles.

I looked up the process,

they heat the silver till it’s soft

carving deep cuts with gravers

angles specified to create the whole picture I wasn’t allowed to touch them.

“ you’re a bad egg Pat, the whole family knows it”

She’d say pointing her curled finger at my face.

when I heard she passed I knew the family would argue over them

“their worth a lotof money ya know”

I could hear my aunt talking out the side of her mouth

I took one

slipped it in my pocket before the house was ransacked by well wishers

I could feel the yolk dripping from my guilty hands

I just wanted to remember

the before

Barely tall enough to see inside the drawer

Standing tip toed in the dining room

Before my curiosity was stunted by bad decisions,  some my own

the sky above is gray

a perfect day to lower a casket

I watch from the hill before slipping further into the wood

a gale blows twisting my skirts around my legs

I send a silent prayer to be taken along

but here I stand on solid ground

unanswered prayers

The soft velvet brushing gentler now against my knees.

The trail opens to a creek

I’m a minnow in the mouth of it

The water nebulous

blurry, vague, unclear

My synonyms

The freezing hands of the water grab hold on either side as I float there

Remembering a glass of water on the counter top

with a single egg sinking to the bottom

“see patsy this one’s good

only the rotten ones float”

I see the tip of her fingernail rise from the freshly packed dirt

to point miles away toward the creek

Only the rotten ones float patsy.

a jester with a marotte leers

through the dark at me.

I feel like I’m the marotte,

impaled head on a skewer.

I wonder if he ever talks to it?

or worse if it talks back.

Funny guy, can get away with a lot-

The damp has seeped fully through my jeans now.

something leaking from the dumpster I’m using as a headrest.

My dreams are bizarre when I sleep here.

Pieces of conversation, odd sounds-

Come crawling from the Main Street.

I dream of a birthday party

Big and grandiose with carnival rides

the jester is there, juggling

a kid with a good arm busts bottle after bottle at the booth

He’s whipping them so fast they blur into a streak

one after another

Whip Shatter

Whip shatter

The wails of a toddler ring out as she sits atop a pony chained to a board

He walks in circles

she is all alone

Whipppp

Shatter

I wake with a start to a man digging through my dumpster pillow

Bottles rattle in his wake

Thought you were dead mate

or folded

He grinned broadly down at me

I am, I tried to mutter

but the words seemed to stick in my mouth

my tongue dried out and rough as sandpaper couldn’t remember how to form a nicety or two

lay limp and useless

he went on smiling and rummaging

“You’re the boy with the good arm aren’t ya”

He asked

I nodded

and the young girl…

I wanted to answer

I tried to open my mouth wider

and red balls  spilled out

bouncing down the alley way

When I looked back to the man he’d become the jester the point of his stick glinting in the lone streetlight

his face curled in a vicious grin as he plunged it towards my throat.

I woke again, this time for real,

to the empty alleyway.

Slumping lower to the ground I peered around to see the street

a few wrappers fluttered by

The blue light still gleamed

but the jester…

He was gone

unsplash photo by Ron Griffin

each one of us in poetry or prose

in posy words

& pandemonium

the petrified mummies we are

there isn’t a thing new to say

wishing we were first

the stones that carved the cave wall,

the beets crushed for dye

imagine it with me a moment

lying in the garden looking

up through what there isn’t yet a name

for.

sensing your own presence

touching your own face

before your very eyes a being lifts off

and disappears

into the open blue everything

manna falls in its place

all around you the world itself is

singing

Abhishek Koli

foaming at the mouth, to cough a sandwich bag at my feet.

beside me a young girl leans off the side of her beach towel with a piece of driftwood

spears the sand and drags it circular around the castle, oil bubbles up to fill the moat.   

I continue on, jotting notes on the cost and effect of revamping the packaging industry.

the sea screams aloud

her voice mingling with a gull

who is working a cigarette butt down her throat

chokeholded by a six pack ring.

she gives up and places

it in her child’s beak.

off to my right two teenage boys put their wet trunks in the grocery bag they pulled from the belly of a washed up turtle.

I glance up long enough to notice the sickly green shade the seas taken, unsettled, I pull my shades down.

somewhere in the distance a navy ship blasts air turned machine gun through a squid

blowing out the ear drums

of every whale in a 2000 mile radius.

the crabs abandon their homes

and seek cover

use salt to fight the acid

that is eating through their shells.

the whales decide land is safer

and try their sea legs on the shore.

a crack of glass drifts down from Indiana

where a man empties a trash bag

from a weeks long camping trip

sea starts scooting debri toward the middle to make room

asking..

how will we fit all these water bottles

from the sewers?

starts shoving wrappers into the clam shells

I lift my shades indifferent and think a spell, lazily pick a few bottle caps tangled in seaweed and toss them in the recycling bin

the sea asks if I’ve had dinner?

and I haven’t

I order a shrimp and polyethylene po boy

give a chance, however small, for the rabbit to make it across

are you cruel?

do you speed up?

when they hold up the photos

in the white room

with the comfort measures-

throw pillows, afghans

a window with blinds drawn

do you see the devil in the flash card?

my eyes have been blinking and squinting, what does any of it mean anyway.

I remember the day..

it always comes back around to you.

I am chasing the ambulance

before that I have no gas I can’t get to you

before that I’m on the phone in the hallway in the open

before that I am laminating a picture I drew of a lamb

I am chasing the ambulance and I’m afraid

of driving so fast on the gravel

I can’t keep up.

before that I am hearing about leg lumps

we are talking about gatorade

I never know this is all inside of me until my thumbs start working the keyboard

it all spills out

blue Gatorade spills out all over the floor.

“I can control my body with my mind

Watch… “

I do

as he rubs his hands together and then holds them up to show me

saying poof!

the blood is gone from his pointer where I pricked.

I can see it smeared on his thumb

It doesn’t matter

I play along because it’s all we all want

is someone to believe

in us

in magic

and I do believe

that you were sent my way for a purpose, for a lesson.

the yellow boy tells me he drinks

my drink of choice.

I touch his girlfriends sweater lightly

to tell her they won’t admit you for detox.

There’s ways around it..

you have to want to be helped

he stares with fishbowl eyes

addiction the cat pawing at the top of the tank.

are you ready? I want to shout it-

pull out a megaphone

say it over the intercom

so you’ll hear me through the sweat and the shaking.

believe me

It’s all I’ve ever wanted.

——————-

Disbelief

There is a lot of guilt in my suitcase

It’s been long enough now I’ve got wheels for it to drag along behind me.

I can’t catch up on all the missed time, only show up now.

I keep showing up with my guilt in tow.

when you died I didn’t believe it.

I called your phone states away

where was it ringing?

In the bed still? on the nightstand?

was someone staring at my name lighting the screen and wondering-

if I knew

I was drunk of course I was

I was sure they had the wrong person.

that you would answer and ask why I was calling so late

but you didn’t answer and still I didn’t believe

I left you a voicemail to call me back

please call me back?

you never did, the texts stay unread

the mailbox full

the page loads and fills with goodbyes

and that’s all that’s left is a Facebook page of remember when we..

I missed your memorial get together

that would hurt you

I didn’t wake up in time, I didn’t show up for you.

maturity and grief have taught me so much about the kind of friend I was.

I wish you were still here

I wish you could meet the better version

I wish I could go back and be the better version sooner.

I look back and am in disbelief at the things I have done, no one wants to be the bad guy in the story.

Recognizing that you were-

that takes a toll, that makes for a heavy suitcase.

I hope you are proud of me now Rebecca

I remember you

I think of you often.

art work by my late friend Becca D

bearing down with the heat of a world in the oven.

deep into September she paces the sky without relent.

her reign has been in the works for years

we have aided in the footwork

No

we are the footwork.

Still, we stand below her, bodies crying great heaves of sweat.

we call her forward, oppress us

demean us under a glowing ember thumb.

Open the door she is waiting inside

dragoness in the passenger with the bag at the ready.

oil blackened teeth, garbage nails sharpened

too late she swoons

too late

and the bag is upon us

plastic eyed

nostrils full of it, to the sinus

down to the bile

thank you for providing monthly prompts that always get my creativity flowing

it seeps from every opening

wriggling free

from the cracks

between my teeth

It rolls off my tongue

thick and toxic

as the smoke I exhale

I am your nicotine

that bitter taste that entices you

your mind is my toy to play with

my figurine to rip limbs off

I’ll leave you without a leg to stand on

all your mistakes I thrive on

your failings are my success

I despise you.

Into my web I’ll weave you

and you

willing

you do not struggle free

Instead you wait for me

to suck the poison out

dissimulation is my game

my chess

I am the king and queen

the bishop, rooks and knight

you are only the squares I walk on

the red and black I trample

I will never

treat you differently

than I do now

to much same scenery

I’ll put my hand in the passenger seat

close my eyes just for a second

just resting them

feel for your leg

You’re in the rearview

In the windshield

I’m not going to explain

the starburst streetlights jetting past

with their vertical spines

ram rod straight

I’m not going to swerve

at the broken fence

in case of nails.

Or speed up where the road turns sharp into darkness

the angle unknown

wont mind the headlights illuminating the stranger in the parking lot

bull run at the car

keep driving

thumb rolling in the road

keep driving

stay awake

I’m not going to fall asleep.

and the day was properly gloomy

albeit a bright sunshine yellow semi that blocked most of my view.

I can’t see what’s coming.

Someone adjusted the review,

a glance gives a view of the fabric of the inner top of my car.

its stained by throw up.

have you ever seen someone throw up straight up into the air.

I have.

None of this matters to what I’m trying to say-

I want to tell you about the wall.

I don’t know when I created it

I don’t know how to tear it down

I don’t know that I want to tear it down.

When something bad happens up goes the wall.

My emotions are bricked in

My mind is needed for decision making.

There is no time for tears, my wall makes sure.

I must be present and able to deal with the situation at hand

and anyone else around me who cannot.

The pain comes out in unexpected ways, later

sometimes much later.

Now without a drink the pain that has been behind the wall for years is starting to seep through.

My wall still holds up, sometimes when it really shouldn’t.

I dread to hear the question “awh did you cry.”

No

I didn’t cry

wall says no cry

That doesn’t mean I don’t care

I care deeply

Why is that always the question that decides whether you gave enough of a fuck

I don’t cry, I write poems for you.

flush burning inside out

where the vessels burst

a shade of blush that can’t be replicated

the same purple smear under

the eyes

the bottle says full voluminous

full

body

dress every cilium

make me full

body, voluminous

bearable

the soft pop of skin

when the post breaks through

body saw wound and grew over

relish the slight pain of it

the press of the puncture

even when your lobes drag down

with the weight of

pretty…

the wand is too hot to touch

the curl sizzles

twisted

but pretty

the chest pokes through the silk

pretty

nothing beneath but

It’s all familiar

like a past life

out of focus

look back at the girl woman

standing stock still at the full length

pretty

Does in the graveyard

Dots of fur whiter than

the statue of the lord

they’ve gathered beside

His face tilted to the sky

his arms raised

handprints have soiled his robes

the world smeared their grime

all over him

Suspended, we cross the bridge

Where all the floating bodies have been dredged and fished out

and the prison where I’ve never seen a soul enter or escape

the golden light glints on the barbs

the small garden beside it,

a flash of green after metal.

where the willow weeps and the creek floods.

I met a boy.

Who injected horse tranquilizer into his upper thigh

the infection spread

swollen as the summer sun

It ate great bites of flesh like the first peach of the season

soft and full of juice

running when he could not

to the bone to the pit

we packed it daily

hid mother stuck her own hand inside to fill the hole

his father dropped tiny white pills in his water to dissolve

 the pain

I didn’t understand

What great tragedy would lead to this path

What fork

what worried forehead crease pried open to reveal

an empty room and a dirty needle

it never stopped

the plunger pressed down one hundred times over

the prison doors never opened

the hand eventually pulled back from the open wound

Saying dry it up!

mothers hands are all cramped and wasted

all the solvent has dissipated and been swallowed up by father

who has been taking them

behind all of our backs

I reach up then as well

like the statue

like the barbed wire

we are all Searching

the sky for answers

When you left for Alaska I made you a cd

on winter and snow and all things cold and unforgiving.

You asked me to go with you

instead I sent you off with the shins

“caring is creepy” in your head phones

I didn’t think I was made for the cold

that the wind would blow me over

really there is just something inside of me that is always asking me to stay

some clipped winged bird inside of me that says “you can not fly”

while the bird in you cannot land

You brought the frost with you to Maryland

and left for the mountains with fog trailing behind you.

you’ve taken a piece with you

from everywhere you’ve been

so I can refer to your body as map

and ask about moose and ice fishing

how far you’ve waded into the Atlantic?

If you can see my house from the top of Mt. Elbert?

Even when you’re here, you’re going, even just to the inside of your mind

I know there is wanderer in your spirit

your journey is spiritual, the highways are your prayers

the only tongue you know is leaving.

I know how hard you tried to teach me that language.

there are days it feels like this whole world isn’t enough room

days you’re aching to stretch your legs across continents

and never find a wall you can’t kick through

If this world was flat I know I’d see you

toes tipping the edge

ready to fall into the cosmos

maybe it would be there you’d find

something enough to keep you.

unsplash Kathrine coonjohn

a feeling that drags contorted limbs

across the carpet.

I wake within its presence

feel it cower beneath the bed.

undressed / vulnerable

it remains through the day in fragments, almost memories.

my reasoning at the time felt so solid

my rebuttals

my disbelief all clink together,

as cubes in the glass.

bobbing atop the cool water of your voice,you are indifferent

sarcastic even.

sharp. glass words slice at me.

you pack them tight with intention, impossibly heavy, I’m pelted

with cement snow, a cruel smirk.

incredulous at my frozen tongue.

I cannot reply.

every excuse thin and wanting,

I stand on transparent ice.

seeing myself below

failing

flailing to make sense

when their is none.

I say

I was selfish.

I was young.

I was foolish.

I didn’t know.

I should have done more.

I should have been better.

there are ways I remember you  outside of myself.

before I existed.

a young man with long

and flowing hair

a tank top a temper.

the window cracked open to the sound of crickets and the party in the shed.

staring at Donna

all the dreams you had at 19

and they came true.

you two made it to almost thirty years.

even younger hunting rabbits

which traumatized your soft

cushy heart

that you’d give to me one day.

farther still to your grandfathers house heads bent over a geode memorizing the curvature.

how proud he was of you

and what you created

his first grandbaby

he carried her picture in his truck

on a board he shellacked

at the kitchen table I’m molding a face, sticking my fingers deep in the sockets. How many times did you invite me to work in clay?

to come camp

to make time, to spend time.

I come to the chasm edge

there is no more time

pebbles fall & echo forever.

I want more.

caught in the teeth of the blue bag

the sky is split completely in half

blue skies on one side

gray and bulbous on the other

I snap its neck with my phone

sink my torso to my knees

the trailer park revival begins

with a four drawer dresser around my

middle and every step I’m knocking my knees

my mind has wandered off exhausted and delirious to lay on the tracks

in the empty rooms I discover

a game of my own

striking the walls incessantly

with a glowing orb

catching it in my hands

trying to determine its next move

it jolts and juts directionless

with the grooves worn in the floor

I am still learning

everyday

how to use my hands

to tame my thoughts

to use my voice

I hear the conversations go on without me muffled now by the door

I am thankful

to have a moment

where nothing is requested of me

open

so you can see to the concrete

the tops of the heads below

red shoulders

white tan lines

hair ties, hats, beads and baubles

and your own bare feet climbing up

at the top I'm surrounded

a gaggle

a gaggle of children with a view of the golf course grown over

all the golfers grandchildren are with me at the top of the slides

personalities shining through

at 7, 8, 11

i at only 5’4 am a giant in their midst

they are edging me quite close to the safety bars

a future CEO argues about the speed of the different slides

compared to the wait time

a humanitarian smiles without her front teeth and pulls her friend up by the suit strap

I hear a noise like an ill donkey

and see a boy look to the sky

arms stretched behind

braying into a red laughing face

so many scrawny limbs reach for hands

a small girl in front turns

looking for her sister

she’s next

she says shes scaweed

It doesn’t matter

your next

and the crowd behind will trample you

the heat bares down

gripping our exposed necks

one by one they grab the bar and hang

feet first down the chute

till the lifeguard blows!

they let go and plummet

one by one by one

they all fall screaming

unsplash Konrad Bürden

been said

nothing

nothing

the sun is too hot, hotter than it was

ant me under the magnifier

athena runs wild in my mind back on

all fours not a bite on her

the cat eats

the misplaced tree moves its legs

walking backwards

time rewinds we’re in the garden again

I take the mint this time

time rewinds I get a proper diagnosis

Time stills long enough..

all my confessions hang like pollen in the air I pocket them, take it back, take it all back

time rewinds

time rewinds

I’m born purple

blue

smaller than I should be

rewind me

a tape unraveling

I wrap the ribbon around my neck

you’re singing

I’ve made my throat

the spool