Friday, May 25, 2012


Her feet sang across
the bricks,
toes splitting over the gritty
sidewalk along the park, and
sirens silenced her laughter.

"Your mom's a bitch," she
sang and skipped,
"She's a bitch, a bitch."
Her hips shift.
She stretches a dress already
too small to fit her sorrows
at sixteen.


  1. Wow. I love this! I can see everything.

  2. I'm at a point in life where I have no idea what comes next, and I get caught up in that.

    But then your poetry so consistently wakes me to beauty and life.

  3. I am interested in the image of that stretched dress