Suddenly ideas beamed towards her. She could see them streaming through the window. Smell. Cookie. Stairs. Lots. Sunshine. Porch. Chicacoos, chicka, chickadoos. Birds. Crumbs. Up. Chair.

She could.

Her mother was talking in the bathroom.

Go downstairs. She did that before. It was hard but she could do it.

No falling. To the kitchen. To the cookies. They were up with the red chair. She could climb. The big part against the sink, like John did. He gave her a cookie too.

She pushed off her blankets and rolled her legs off the bed. This was the hard part. Reach the floor, almost, and let go without falling, without Mom coming.

“Mrs. Gerakis! You know you shouldn’t get up alone. Robbie will be here at 8:30 to help you wash. After breakfast, maybe we’ll sit on the terrace. But no hiding bread in your pockets. Those pigeons are dirty.”

She slumped back on the pillow, legs dangling. Words. “No,” was all she heard. No cookie. No stairs. No chickadees. No John. Not ever again.


 Daily Prompt: Agile



I won’t talk about your lips
or the taste that I miss
I won’t picture your smile
or the miles walked to see it
I won’t mention mistakes
made in the wake
of better judgement
or resentments brewed
stronger than any stewed regrets
I won’t show the sore parts
of my torn heart
or share the spots
of buried thoughts
crushed with duty
as we moved on
I will conjure images
stark and bare
stained in pink
strained past caring
a setting for you
to exhale my name
and for me to redeem
my dignity

so long

it’s been so long
since I’ve heard
anything new
of your days
or your dreams
or the nights
in between
so though it hurts
I must conclude
I don’t know you


this cusp belies
of winter’s end
though I know
it won’t bring spring
I should learn to enjoy
the warm itch of wool
than wane yearning
for the touch of your skin

you and words

life goes on just like before
contracts signed and others torn
though I rarely read a single line
like I did between yours
just to find I would be
the only one bound
to no gains
and expected to refrain
from expectations

I have no reasons only rhymes

to excuse the time I wasted
offering views to the blind
I preferred the words
and how they swirled
in my eyes and mouth
so much more than you

but without you they scatter
I’m adrift amidst a mist
of letters that refuse
to gather into clouds
and rain a relief
I can turn into words
to drown my fear
that you have all
I wish I did not need

birthday, again

The forecast said sunny

it wasn’t
still, at least it didn’t rain
and it wasn’t cold
but it wasn’t warm either
When at last the sun seeped
through the blanketed sky
the cake had been sliced and shared
wishes dished and smiles dispersed
and the remaining work
set aside for tomorrow
In all, the day was duly pleasant
if not dull
mostly, it was done
And but for the sound
growing louder
of doors not too distant
creaking shut
everything was the same
despite the birthday wish

still life

The spring sun rouses me
from my slumber
I stumble to the purpose
buried under last year’s leaves
My stash has been raided
as I awaited warmer days
The bones
picked clean of contentions
hold no pretension
of slaking my hunger
and crumble to ash at my touch
Ghosts of intentions
whet desires
I dare not mention
without raising hope
for the dead
dried fallen buds
crunching underfoot
as I make my way
to take my place
and make art of starvation
in this barren still life

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