Powerful, Sydney.

A Poem — I unravel the last piece of tinsel from the tree, but it catches on my anxiety, winds down through breakable ornaments and bad memories, tangling impressions of family gatherings, tightening the roar in my ears as I’m grabbing my children to stop them from wrecking a relative’s pristine house of glass vases, shiny baubles and everything placed in perfection just So. What a pretty Christmas. Such lovely tinsel. Such strong silver string drawing an end to something inside me that will never be allowed to begin.

Poem — The first bones of winter stare at me in the naked forest Fallen trees scatter my trail watched by complacent pines still upright in their fitted skulls of snow Branches freeze in mid-reach for my touch They don’t know I, too, am cold My head wilted by guilt, I walk faster before the new snow casts judgement But before I leave, a cardinal splits the air - like an impossible choice

A poem — Tell me your mind in the silent conversation that takes shape across our chessboard Tell me the sweetness of danger between us when I fork your exposed pieces Tell me the thrill running up your spine when you move and I pin you between us Tell me in en passant without words as we nearly touch but don’t Tell me your every move with your mind

Poem — I leave halfway through my second poem exiting via the quietest sky I am dumb, a tomb of atoms fingers stung by dishes and womb There is no balm for empty touch Our old sofa, the witness to a thousand deaths comes to life to cheer me on The flies are still dying where I hung them on the line I leave every type of mask behind I go, naked of wisdom and time If you liked this, you might enjoy my poem:

A Poem — I try to paint the sweet dark ache of yesterday’s memories but they slip off my brush roll down the easel and into the cavity between my sanity and Neruda’s poetry, crushed like the orbs of berries beneath our feet when we walked through summer and you picked a wildflower paused to hold your palms to my cheeks move my hair tuck that flower behind my ear and I paused too to fall in love with you I try to paint those wild berry memories

A Poem — Light loses me as I drift backward Stars grow cold on my skin I cup my name one last time hold it to my face but it rivers away The end looks at me A breeze pauses to let me out The death of water comes in the turn of beautiful waves harms no one when taken alone

A Poem — I count you Count your memories offered to me like wild berries I separate your words of love and hope into abacus pearls I count each pain to learn how to take it away I undress you count your sighs drink them like dew I am your locus I count you again

A Poem — In the painting I will never show you the silent red of the sun sets on your bare skin To the ocean’s mid-tone I add blues so deep inside you I cannot fathom their beauty Adrift in your faraway eyes I paint clouds of dream grey And at last, on the water I scatter your voice in breaths of light