Fire Twin

For DVerse’s “in my element” , which is inspired by the elements and the zodiac. 

Born two months early,

Like I was willing to risk

Danger to see the world

A little sooner —


And my soul knew who

It really was: a twin,

Born under a fire sign,

Burning, burning —



For day 28 of NaPoWriMo, we are writing meta-poems, or poems about poetry. 

This pen spills ink because there’s an ache in me:

Words dance together and bump into, knock on

The door on the inside of my mind, waiting

Impatiently, wanting more room to be set free.


Finally, they are able to burst through the door,

Formed like Athena through the head of Zeus,

Not so gloriously, but a sign that I’m fighting.

Reflection on a Photograph of My Garage

For NaPoWriMo day 25 and this prompt about Imagist poetry from Real Toads. I took a photo of my garage and went from there. 


To the left hangs my mother’s white tank top

Next to my brother’s green work shirt:


There is space between his things

And the pink shirt with tiny white polka dots

To the left hang my dad’s shirts, blue and black.

Look closer —

See the laundry baskets, one of which is

Half-empty, and behind that, the box and bag

Of clothes that won’t be worn again, that

Will be taken to Goodwill (eventually) —


Close to the door, a big blue suitcase

That hasn’t yet been put away, and an

Old round dartboard — years since anyone played.


Poetry As Catharsis

For Real Toads. NaPoWriMo day 16. 

Poetry is like a lava flow, so that I don’t explode.

Poetry is the heartbeat, from the center of me.

Poetry is the rain outside, pouring, and the shy sun when it peeks through clouds.

Poetry is the salve on my heart, saving my sanity.

Poetry is the firefly that makes even the darkest night a little lovely.


The Cathedral

Posted with sadness for NaPoWriMo day 15.

I heard that Notre Dame was burning.

800 years of history, up in flames

I heard the spire collapsed.

Someone took a video of the flames

Consuming it — I couldn’t watch it.


All the famous photographs —

Someone was the last to snap

A photo of its majestic beauty,

Before it turned to fiery fury.


Imagine the rose window exploding

From the inside out, Our Lady crying —


I heard that Notre Dame was burning.

Never thought it possible

800 years of history, up in flames.


NaPoWriMo day 3. Inspired by Psalm 65.

Stay with us Lord, and let the tumult still;
O God the savior, our only hope today,
Fill us with joy, and lead us through all ill —
Our heavy offenses, You wipe them away.
Blot out not our life, but rather dry our tears!
The waves rise high, let saving help appear!

Every Broken Piece

I wrote this one last night. It’s basically a stream-of-consciousness poem.

I give You
Every broken piece
Which makes no picture,
Each incomplete puzzle
Missing a bit of its soul,
I give You
Every broken piece
All my nothing —
Put some color
In the puzzle,
Some life in the lines,
Something right in me.