Published The Battered Suitcase,
Vagabond Press Nov.

And a birthday card arrived today
through the mail. It scorched my
skin; a portent of doom in
my hand
The letter unopened, I know its
sender, meek fingers, and shallow heart
that is not so tender for
long. Eyes
that see through my soul, fingers
that burnt me long ago. Those
visceral scars didn't heal so well
a ridge now rough on my
naked fare
The moon it shines for my
eyes, and I see crystal clear
A white canvas for my arms
to embrace
When the sun shines I'm blinded
My shell of turquoise that holds
true in my eyes of grey
The flowers in my garden, I
grew from seed. I had to
soak them in water for twenty
four hours
to soften the hard incarcerating nut
Now a light, green stem escapes
and grows from a crack that
burst when the water took, while
I slept
Summer will be colourful and I'll
sleep while the those buds ripen
to hues I've not seen in
some time
Those sullen hands that hold my
soul rigid and fingers deep around
my heart. The dark sea I
traveled through, still the water didn't
bleed that nut for me