Poem of the Week

By | 12:00 PM Leave a Comment


By Rina Sires

your footsteps

DIDN'T make any noise

and that was weird,

given the weight you carried

on your shoulder,

both in your chip

& the baggage. 

Your loose cannon fingers are still

unwrapping themselves from a past

woman in a red dress we don’t

discuss around here. 

Your claws drag shrieking scars

across my back -

following our fights,

I soak in lemon and honey

Hoping to burn or drown

Your touch. 

I didn’t know you were coming,

just like I didn’t know about

the first,


or 15th

broken bone and soul

you’d leave in your wake. 

Flowers reverse bloom

and pucker into dead bulbs

just so they can avoid

being picked by you.

How I wish I was so lucky.

I didn’t know you were coming, because if I had,

I would have run run run.

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