The Trapping

by Ben Parker Just once, in shame, he refuses; his turning snags her words on air. Rock-blue, her pupils bloom.   From his dust she eases him; the scream unspools like hurried leaves. Her practised hand unlocks the pine,   the inner tree exhales, its hidden trunk exposed. The bole weakens to take...

Bipolar

I. A dove into a mirror; A crow into a tree. II. There is a word missing. —A.R. Chase     Archer Rose Chase is the unanticipated amalgamation of a Marine Biologist, a conservative Christian, and the sudden collision of science, religion, and art. She finds it ironic that her bio is longer than...

Bread

doctors pure as angels, white as chefs peruse menus on clipboards,   their exhaustion mouthed in metric from a graveyard shift cuisine   measuring the flour, cutting off the surplus, adhering to rules, to rules, to rules-   hospital smocks’ mocking exposure to cold air and...

Vacation

Arizona was a dry attic we broke into. You told me how we entered in a window splitting under the weight of sunlight, how the crack closed and opened like lips. You told me I could put my finger on any crevice and feel shadows of coyotes and quartz slip into my fingerprints. You said, “Even the sand...

September

September 1st, 1939  If those who do not know history are doomed to repeat themselves, we are in a tornado. Turning vicious cycles. The history denied, taboo, forgotten. The holocaust never happened. But it did. September 1st 1939 was a warm summer’s day. The sun shone on armies poised to shoot and kill,...

My Apartment

My apartment I’ve written so many poems about my little apartment, what’s one more? This poem is about the lady two floors up, who forgot, or didn’t care to take her Christmas decorations down. I didn’t care myself, but I heard the neighbours talking one night over barbeque in the back of the...