My silent ritual embraces chaos itself — I awaken to a new day. Hallelujah. Just last night — as with many nights prior — I had made peace with surrendering to sleep with full-belly, draped in warmth, comfort, companionship and spiritual bonds, tabling my worries for another day that for all I know, may never arrive, knowing…

Who am I, really? — I’ve answered this question numerous times, usually as a perfunctory greeting for a literary publication which triggers their inevitable rejection letter. I never got accustomed to either part of that dance, though the practice of writing my own introductory bio for sending to editors who nearly unanimously reply with, “Nah…

Thrifty Words 100 Challenge #73: Enough — I’ve a reckoning coming. She’ll come, seeking closure. She’ll come, asking the unanswerable; my justifications, only empty platitudes. Why didn’t I fight for her? Simply fleeing was easier for me. Why didn’t I do more? Mostly better off ruminating less. Anything she’s spun would be better than what reality’s cemented. …

Just as I see differently, I also now love differently — Solstice will come and go within the hour, ironically, while my shortest night is at its absolute darkest, and yet here I sit among blackest black, glowing which makes little difference to the lives sketched out in graphite and charcoal, no closer to the finished product than we were minutes…

The blemishes I try to hide — Well, when am I not lying? To anyone? When my top comes off and elongated, thin brown hands and arms roam chest and tummy, scrambling to cover the pudgy bits, would you laugh despite your advantage, or would my nervous chuckle rush in, filling the awkward unbuckled air silently separating…

A sensual poem — Moon-blushed huntress, you’ll have to be selfish for me to be selfless. You must indulge your desire to ravage and in return, to finish, ravaged. I’ll never come when called; only once you demand with low growl; curt, not dominant by driven force, but by design, as if this is…