Untitled

I am pulled into

individual pieces

woven back in thirds

forced through an eye, dragged over

and under till my face is

drawn taut with forced smile, behind

is all thread, no brain.

Pack-Man --

Who packed away

my beauty, consumed

my security, chomped

my belongings until

all that remained was

a hollow sand dollar,

a skeleton to hang

from your wall, a memento

of better times?

Poem-a-Day: Aptitude

Accumulations

of Sappho embalmed and

stored in catcalls that

spill with cacophonous shoes

tallying acclaimed importance

but the most silent

is the most insidious.

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