Unbreak the Son: a poem

I feel it there, between my heart and ribs, Along that thin strip of flesh. A crack upon the sternum Words And how they rest there in the shallow scoop of skin A clavicle. Words and how they rest there Fingers how they hover on an iliac Scapulae and how the feathers bleed when they …

Continue reading Unbreak the Son: a poem

Windsong

I wish that I had known Virginia Woolf.  The way she drifts beneath the waters of the Ouse River.  Near Sussex, her pockets full of stones.  I would have liked to hold her hand and smell her hair.  That glorious mane of woman hair, strong and maternal.  Safe.  I would have liked to wrap my …

Continue reading Windsong