I used to travel her route on afterschool afternoons. They have since incorporated Helena’s Way into a construction site. Intentional or otherwise, now I scan the sidewalks from the car window, eager for a glimpse of her. There she goes, I would say. The one who won’t let me go. I have forgiven you thousand-crane […]

Before Summer kicked the bucket, Shepherd had intended to leave an absent goodbye hanging on the dotted clothesline to signify his momentary departure, and adopt the moldering stench of damp-dryer abandonment to disguise his scent…but he misplaced the carrion-pelt of buzzwords meant to appease the vultures who guarded their master’s modus operandi; and wound up crying […]

Water: a dipperful to soothe lips aching from absent kiss-prints, arms in need of a mirror to break without shattering, the slight frisson of skin-slip in place of pestilent longing. Were the Great Lakes bearers of secluded messages, ere errors encompassed logarithms of uncaught fish…! They dash along a rocky coastline, bracing for the deep […]

They don’t take laughter like they take shots of Stoli on a humid Saturday night in the middle of a martini bar that charges ten times the cost of manufacturing. Garments too loose (or just tight enough) stick to their ribs like Dum-Dum wrappers to melted lollipops in cherry, root beer, or mystery flavors. Their […]

It wasn’t my middle name that hushed his heaving grief — it was your piece of store-bought cake, topped with sprinkled pansies trapped within pewter pebbles bearing a strong resemblance to sculpted bubbles. The Indian-style headdress accessorizing your hand-beaded gown accented your hazel eyes, golden in the campfire. Levitating lanterns lit his way inside their […]

She looks just like you.

You can’t question the loamy articulations that barely qualify as speech collecting at the bottom of his rocks glass like too many take-homes from The Himalayas. You can’t ask them what’s wrong with preferring the color they ignore — “that’s for underlings” — it’s not acceptable to perforate the illusion. You can’t tell them you’ve […]


©Kasia Biel – Dreamstime Stock Photos

I upchuck overwrought adjectives from the steaming stomach of my vocabulary and glare at the undigested mass of regurgitated indignities. Could verbal vomit neutralize a less loathsome stench? Would unprocessed, preservative-free lingo, as yet unsullied by hefty quantities of bitter bile, emulate the floral quality of five dozen roses?

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