Inhaling doesn't hurt so much when living is the only loyalty. No, what hurts is the glance away, eyes that yank the flesh they once beheld, like waxing strips left on too long, too deep. Blood rivulets run through five o'clock shadow flumes while feathers lay shredded on the floor. I never imagined her tiger…
Dear sister, I understood your longing, for I felt it first. Lying on the sandbank, sea waves quietly tickling your fins, ears windswept for once. Music, carriages, voices, church bells rang in the early morning when the moon still bathed our scales. Baby sister, I enraptured you before the sailor's shadow. I only wanted your…
TW: suicide Mama, Dada: every baby’s first words more than mumbles. Mommy, Daddy: the naïve child sounding sweet to say love and sway pity. Mom, D — no, not Dad. Never Dad. I never reached that stage, for you ran to the edge and crashed headfirst into the silent seats when everyone had emptied out…
National Poetry Writing Month
Keeping the world immersed in stanza.
About fantastical places and other stuff
"The silence of the night awakens my soul"
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Saralyn Caine Poetry 