I never speak ill of the dead
it’s those who are alive
I worry about.
The sun, giving too much warmth
for the time of the year
and how we never seem
to fully enjoy it.
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Turbid
Cambium in Belladonna’s Garden
Yet another one to be proud of. My poem Cambium appeared in the spring issue of Belladonna's Garden, a cozy little magazine featuring poetry, stories and artwork.
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Grief is a mountain
Grief is a mountain. They say I have to
get over it. So I climb.
Breathing is nearly impossible. Dust fills my lungs
the air is hot and lifeless.
I dig with broken fingernails
in the darkness surrounding me.
Thick like gravel.
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Ice Days
Flakes seem to soften everything
but I don't feel it. Hide my pain
behind scarves. Cold seeps
through my skin like memories.
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Leen writes 