Penelope

i.

She saw my

tears from her perch

miles

away

& she didn't want to

(she cried for me

regardless). 

ii.

I walked

away 

- always the last

to go -

& I didn't want

to.

(I did

regardless.) 

I will meet her

in the woods

behind Penelope's house. 

The wind will not so much blow

as drift 

through the branches.

I will be

struck 

by the color of her hair -

peroxide blonde, almost

white. Almost the same as 

the porcelain of her skin.

Her eyes will stop me

from getting too close

the first time. 

The bright green will

cause flash-forwards

of afternoons

spent sitting in 

wind-whispering grass. Read more »

I sat on the white steps that led up to the white porch that sat in front of the grey walls. I breathed in the smell of snow and suppressed a shiver when the inside of my nose froze. I wrapped my coat tighter around myself, hugging my torso to try and conserve any heat that might be left in me. I wiggled my toes to check for feeling. My feet were numb; converse never were good for cold weather. I saw a bird land on the roof of the house across the street. I almost laughed when another followed right after, landing right next to the first, almost knocking it over. Read more »

Penelope sits by my window & waits as

each star mops up the black around it into

nothing. she reaches inside the maze of my mind to

extract the images I couldn't find myself

listening to the silence-drummer. she thrives 

on my insanity. her eyes are open; she watches

people, finds a story to match every wrinkle -

evokes ideas-carved-into-woodwords. (she knows.)