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Eyes In The Portrait
There’s a new ghost in my gallery,peering from the frames of all my paintings,her stare, so accusatory,as she watches me with my wife’s soft hair,twirled around troubled fingertips,lips lost in a lullaby that lasts all night,ignorant of the rising sun and the expectation for a woman’s place to be in the kitchen, rather than underneath…
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Sins Of The Father
Once upon a time, many moons ago, when the sun shone new in the freshly made sky, God had a daughter. She was the first child. Long before Adam and Eve, or Jesus Christ, and long before all of you, there was the first and most treasured daughter, Invierno. You will not find her name…
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Rock and Roll
My rock and roll iconoclast, clasped tight in my cherry embrace, homecoming Queen with the devil’s flowers around her wrist, and I miss her when she splits to go buy me a drink, cheap cider, and a blossoming kiss when she returns from the bar, like the prodigal daughter.
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Monogamy
We planted flowers where nobody would find them,exchanging vows like Christmas gifts at the gates of he old factory on the hill that was meant to be flats six months ago.Life was always slow, in this kind of town,the kind of place where sunsets and winter winds become one,and life goes on,day by day,late bus…
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Women Have Sore Throats
I have got a sore throat. So many words have soared past my painted lips, but they never click in the ears and minds of those who bind me in their bastard bounds, rounding on me with furious, famished eyes, and I stand before them, saying the same things, screaming and shouting, about my right…
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Sincerely, Jennifer x 