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Fiction

Victim No More

All at once she was aware of the contrast she saw in the mirror. Cindy and she looked a lot alike — though her sister had always been prettier — and they had often been taken for twins with streaks of individuality. But at the moment there was no resemblance between them at all. Cindy stood there looking beautiful while she herself looked like a derelict: dirty, ragged, and bruised. [...]

Fiction

Victim No More – Pt. II

She fell backwards onto the low coffee table… the side of her jaw screamed with pain — or was that her voice?… then a sharp stabbing as she landed on something hard and rolled onto the floor, hitting her head on the corner of the table… the hard object she had fallen on went down with her as the table tilted and she felt herself lying on the bruising hardness of stone… she reached down under herself and felt the slick coolness as she pulled the object out… her stone horse… the weight was solid in her hand as anger surged… she brought her arm forward, feeling the heavy stone leave her hand as she flung it at Billy… [...]

Poetry

crows

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Poetry

The Fall of the Finches

Goldfinch and Cherry Tree, c.1834

The first one flew in through the chimney, spent the night in the house, hurling himself at the kitchen windows in the early fractured light.

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Poetry

Mourning Doves

Two Mourning Doves Fluff up Their Feathers to Stay Warm

Have such soulful Eyes, their gray suits Of feathers blurs and sinks

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Poetry

Singular

White Bird

Overhead, a flock of Canada geese cut through chill morning fog a surprise to start the day &emdash; but look! Isn’t that a white goose

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Poetry

The Language of Doves

Love Song I

Wind whispers starlings flutter buds unfurl

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Poetry

DISCOVER THE SECRET LANGUAGE OF BABY CRIES

Birds in Black on Wire

That’s what the online ad said; I didn’t click on it because I’m childless, but I suppose knowing what a baby is really saying could save a lot of time. I’d

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Poetry

MURMURATIONS

A Flock of Kittiwakes, Rissa Sp., Take of from a Cliffside Rookery

rising like a black tide borne on northern currents

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Poetry

The Empress

"The Empress" by Susanna Viale

Without her I would be a particle of dust settling on a concrete slab.

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