Archive | October, 2015

Stockholm Syndrome

26 Oct

When the smell of a new roast

and the itch of grey cotton against my shoulders

stir a tranquility

equivalent to that from

lavender incense.



ironic, obscured,

like a poem held captive between 4 and closing,

where syntax is found inside

something prolific,

like fine coffee grinds

or an early paycheck.


The decaf burns my skin as I

pour an 8 oz to go

and it spills over the side –

I don’t mind all that much.


26 Oct

A chair sits


its cushion and legs casting

a patient shadow in the space to its right.





where feet do not rap the floor,

and legs do not grow restless,

and body cannot


towards a more comfortable position.


But a tickle silently tremors its base,

growing, invisible,

waiting for tired legs to find themselves

near enough

to plunge into cushion

and quench two desires.




Legs inch by

bent at the knee, where a wobble is detected

if scrutinized,

shadow hunched,

pleading for momentary rest –


but a paper is due in an hour,

and time

cannot allow her to sit

for even just a moment.



A chair







English Breakfast

5 Oct

It takes time for the

tea to heat up.

Until it does,

don’t pay mind to the outside sounds,

screaming, spitting, spewing, obscenities that could

crumble mothers’ hearts like

lavender-lemon pies, fumbled between fingertips that

finally learned the meaning of



Only about a minute more.

Maybe mixed with honey and brown sugar,

and to eat, something warm and sweeter yet,

you will remember that outside sounds

stay put on the

other side of the window.