Category Archives: Triolet

Banned.

“At Play and at Fire its Good manners to Give Place to the last Commer, and affect not to Speak Louder than Ordinary.” G. Washington

Cunning and closed, a canker that blots out care,
we carry fear in our hearts like a boulder,
blocking closed the door, giving strangers a glare.
“Cunning and closed, a canker that blots out care,
that’s you,” we say, carving stone into a nightmare
in which, trapped, we trade ‘hold her’ for ‘smolder.’
Cunning and closed, a canker that blots out care,
we carry fear in our hearts like a boulder.

Memories of Violets

Spring flowers

The first flowers I ever gave my mom
were violets — little (like me), soft, and blue —
toddler fingers pressing stems in her palm.
The first flowers I ever gave my mom
went in the smallest vase. She was so calm,
after the accident, as if she knew.
The first flowers I ever gave my mom
were violets. Little. Like me, soft, and blue.