ragdoll89

dead of night,    she slips away, escapes his hands,    heavy and hot        even in sleep into the lake    she walks, taking dark water    between her legs        soft and cool, its weight light    unmarred by struggle,    the unending duties        of a good wife in its loving      embrace she’ll remain      yes, this time,         its silk sheets will enfold her         forever

my heart’s beaten out  like laundry      by the river, stone pounded by depression-era women never able to quiet the smells of living and dying,  loving and leaving        in that sun-bleached       life-stained            fabric like an old farmer’s denim,  my heart’s worn slick    with wanting you

              It was a dark and stormy night. As Melody descended the steps to the subway, she looked back and saw her fiancé peering anxiously at her. “You sure you don’t want an escort home? It’s pretty late to be taking the subway all by yourself.” Melody smiled. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.” She blew him a kiss and hurried down the stairs; it had started to rain. As she walked onto the deserted platform, she hummed a merry tune to herself. An old, derelict train came chugging around the co

Summer days, far and few You held me and I held you Locked in silence, passion persists We smiled, whispered, and kissed Summer sun beats down summer heat We graced God and kissed his feet He allowed you to love me, and I you And fall in love like children do

Tinfoil children; Tinfoil faces, With softwood arms and cardboard graces. Tiny wooden baby hands Grasp at your life's slipping sands, As they march on clanking iron feet To an unknown copper beat. Will you see their silver smiles? Will you fall to cotton-wool wiles? Will you let their golden hearts Tear your paper world apart? Do not fear their shining eyes, Their brassy, glowing, diamond lies. But I pray you, be not beguiled, And never trust a clockwork child.

 Ginny always had a penchant for destroying things. At the age of four, she was introduced to blocks (perhaps a devastating mistake on her preschool teacher’s part.) The brightly-colored wooden shapes held a certain fascination for her. While her classmates took a simple childish glee in building things up and knocking them down again, Ginny looked on their ways with disdain. She would carefully create an elaborate structure, and pull out all the key pieces until only a bare framework was left, shivering on the edge of collapse. Then she would tap on just one, or blow on it with her mouth, and the whole skeleton would come crumbling d