flail throat champion
hungry lung's first indulgence
force the sky within
May 8
May 8, 2026 at 2:46 AM UTC
at ebb, she’d be there—vise chest hunching
over kelp, rocks, shells disturbed, shredded
nails ransacking the sand
endless
at flow, she’d be there—tight throat trudging
the edge of wave’s creeping froth, gritted
eyes surveilling the shore
swallowed
years later, she’d be dead—
wasted body washed out
to the unrepentant sea
May 6
May 6, 2026 at 9:53 PM UTC
the alarm blares
but
she’s already awake, halfway
dressed for the day, ahead
as she always is, fully
draped in fawnery, self-silvered
mirrors, long-tarnished
her smiled baubles concealing
the first lie she ever told
when
the alarm blared
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 3:26 AM UTC
Always, you follow
into the aching hollow
where shadows swallow
the edges of my mind
There, you find me
you take my trembling hand
say, baby
don’t hurt without me
I’m not afraid of the dark
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 3:25 AM UTC
when I was small
I happened on the bedded fawn
cached deep in my belly
curled up there, she waits
she weeps; she feels it all
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 3:24 AM UTC
I learn to float in Grandma’s pool
which my gone Aunt Shawna left for me
Trust eddies under my flailing hands
as tiny turbulents teach my liquid body
I don’t always have to hold myself up
I learn to swim in Grandma’s pool
as soon as my toes can kiss the ground
Each year grows arm’s reach until
each length becomes proof that
held breaths aren’t meant just for bracing
I learn to dive in Grandma’s pool
while my big proud splashes spatter her feet
No skill, no grace, no fear—no matter
With all due respect to the water, I know
Grandma’s pool is the safest place
not to drown
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 3:22 AM UTC
When I was born, a seed
they brought me home
then tucked me in, planted
deep
in the feeling soil
where I would bloom
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 3:21 AM UTC
there lies
behind my cage of ribs, a core
shaped by iron; mantle bearing
delicate magma
disguised as blood—mighty
fierce, soft; crust wearing
tender skin
curved as lips in bloom
there lies
behind my eagle eyes, an earth
tempered by
you
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 3:19 AM UTC
so in the end,
poets are simply soldiers stirring
word-weapons like daggers in teacups
gulping down the honey sweet tea
that scalds our aching throats
there is no draft
but everyone can go to war
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 3:15 AM UTC
There is an ancient city,
buried deep in bone,
where, on the ramparts, shivers
a sentinel alone—
Blue-lipped and hunched,
they don a crooked helmet,
hot breath a fleeting cloak
for cheeks, chapped and earnest.
With stiff limbs dressed
in dented, brittle armor,
all night they fight
the long-blink with valor.
Beneath each black-inked sky,
they’ll watch, they’ll persist;
though, would that they could rest,
they—no, they must resist!
For they were born first,
the eldest and the heir,
and borne inherent is the vigil,
a shield without a spare.
Thus, they will stand guard,
o’er the young ones, heedful
that they might sleep safe,
tucked in bed, peaceful.
We are the ancient city,
buried in our bones
where, on the ramparts, shivers
a sentinel alone—
Oct 24, 2025
Oct 24, 2025 at 8:36 PM UTC