Winter, so newly awakened after all these years,

rages outside my door. She batters her hands against the walls,

pinning us inside.

Ghouls with perfect smiles interrupt our distractions on the flickering screen,

to tell us that we’re going to freeze to death, feeding us our medicine.. 

fear like an oily serpent, goes down easy.

Tonight, while the house huddles in their beds, I want to strip off my clothing.

I want to walk outside, and let her claim me.

One frozen lamb, 

to lull her to sleep.



Back up against a wall. The alleyway of a theater,dirty, fragrant, in the heart of a city where I know no one. I wore a skirt for him. I barely know him, but I did it because I knew he wanted it. It is freezing, and I don’t care.

I don’t know him, but I almost go home with him. Only the threat of actually missing a test keeps me from it, his hands, his mouth, his command.

That night, I steal a Christmas Tree with my friends. We carry it in the freezing cold, laughing, drunk with our youth and freedom.

But later… later, I dissolve into it; throwing away my identity to become anything he wants.

I belong no where. So I give nothing. Nothing but my body, my consent, my consciousness. He can have everything, any thing he wants. He will pass me to a friend, and I, pliant and wanton, will give them whatever they ask for.

Anything but my heart. I’ve caged her inside a puzzle box, and lost the key.

I don’t really miss her, either.

Drinking Coffee

I find her eyes to be discomfiting. They strip me of my defenses faster than I can build them, and I wonder how you can stand it.

I have not eaten today, and we’ve been here hours. I am shaking with it, hunger and fear, because I cannot eat under her gaze.

Old fears rise and under her eyes I am only who I am.

Fat, bumbling, clumsy. I cannot pretend; I will choke.

So my food sits untouched, and we still talk and talk, and God help me, she will have to dismiss me

because I am pinned.

We talk about you.  Of course we do, I am the past, she is your future.

I have been here so many times, on one side, then the other. Other woman, discarded past, playing every part in this re-run drama. I feel old, and want to go.

Instead we talk, and she takes every word from me. Helplessly I scoop my soul out and spread it on the table for her.

Your plans are so delicate. A finely woven web of crystal, built on want and this curious rosy colored ideal.

I see it now, wrapped around her like a blanket, and I want it to work. Not for you, even though I love you, but for her. For her eyes, for her delicate fingers, for her lithe mind, and vulnerable, submissive heart.

Parent Teacher Conference

Today, I dress
I wear motherhood like a costume,
a uniform.
Today, I am a soldier, a shield maiden
standing in front of my son, in front of our family
and so I choose carefully.
These pants; they fit, but show my weight loss
This shirt..
no, this one.
Submissive but strong. In this shirt, I betray nothing.
Not my love of gaming,
no passion, no witty remark upon my breast
no alliegance
but to womanhood, to frills, to blushes,
passivity and compliance.
I will betray myself, though, I always do.
I ask too many questions, and they have too many sharp corners
The real me expands to fit the space..
and she stands
hands on her weapon
in front of my son.

The Rest Is

Ceaseless hammering
ignore the mantra
television, fiction
wanton nights
hazy and drugged with
need and urgency and mindless friction
hold me down
pin me with commands
displayed beneath your glass
I asked for this, I begged you
and you did
now I’ve shattered your peace too
I cannot leave you like this
broken against your will.
ceaseless hammering, a song in my veins
a humming in my skin,
beating against my resolve
you are my god now
god, give me strength.

Dream well, dear hearts,

twenty candle flames

set our country on fire

sleep and dream


Rough untitled piece of a play that hasn’t really formed yet.

Her: Inspirational speeches are so easy to listen to, so easy to fall for. You hear ‘just be yourself’ ‘reach for your dreams’ over and over again, and it becomes like a mantra, but like most religious doggerel, it is never anything you actually practice. “life” gets in the way, you see.


People say that all the time, “Life gets in the way”, but what it means is too complex to really encapsulate in a sound bite. What it means is that a thousand tiny little cuts just work theirr way across your body and soul until what you have is a gash. Life, you understand, isn’t one big event, but a million little ones. Every little obligation , every little ‘must’ in life piles on top of your back until there is no more back to pile on.


That is when we do the soul searching, looking for the weakness inside ourselves. It has to be our fault, yous ee, that we didn’t reach for our dreams and touch the moon. Because we weren’t faithful enough, because we didn’t try hard enough, we have been judged and found wanting. Sentenced to a life doing menial labor and telling ourselves that we are happy with our lot, god, who would want to change it?


I truly believe that every jackass who says they wouldn’t use a time machine if it was gievn to them is filled to the brim with the new brand of bullshit, the ‘everything is fine’ hoax. Everything is NOT fine, because you didn’t get the movie, you didn’t walk off into the distance with the music playing. No one’s future looks good on you.

If I had a time machine, goddamned right I would change things. I’ve been called a creature of regret, but I feel like maybe I’m just a realist. I think I’d have a lot more fun, be MYSELF for once instead of trying to be who everyone else wanted me to be.  And here’s where it gets stupid, because I believe in fate. I know that my husband and I will be together, no matter what I do with my time machine. But maybe, just maybe, I grow into myself more. Maybe I stop living in fear of the woman inside myself. Maybe I reach for my dreams for real, maybe I decide that it is ok to fail, and accept things when I do. If I do. Fuck, what was the question.

Him: I don’t remember now. It was probably irrelevant.

Her: Everything is ultimately irrelevant. Everyone’s lives are epic to themselves, but we all get mulched together to make the fabric of the world’s history. Only the truly exceptional get to be remembered. But here’s the joke..

Him: There’s a joke?

Her: The ultimate joke. No one’s stories are unique, and so everyone’s story will get told eventually. Just wait around long enough, and your great granchildren’s grandchildren will watch it on their holo vid implant screens.

Anyway, I am tired, and this wasn’t at all as profound as it sounded in my head.

Him: goodnight then. We can talk later.


Her: It won’t do any good. It’s all the same.  We just go around in a circle, and so it never ends. I’m just tired.


Her: You know, when I was a girl,  too stupid to really know better, I ended up locked away for a while. It wasn’t really as long as it seems, but it was long enough. I felt caged and angry, and so I lashed out with my intelligence and my fury.  Believe me, I was so much smarter when I was young. Now, my mind is nothing but fog.  But then..

anyway.  Anyway, I ended up staying longer than I needed to because I pissed some people off. I used to stand staring out the window at the trees, and wish I was outside. I’d plan elaborate escape routes. I was told secretly by a nurse not to stand there and stare out the window, because then I looked antisocial. Well,  I was.  There was this boy. He was lovely.  He was there because he’d beaten the man who’d raped his girlfriend.. beaten him quite badly.. he was there because he needed watching for a while. He and I used to play stupid games with the nurses. No touching, you see. No one was allowed to touch anyone else. We were to be social, you see, but not be human.

Anyway, we stood there, and poked each other, and giggled constantly. I guess I stopped giggling when he was moved. For a while, though, he was a breath of air. The only person vibrating on the same frequency, if you get my meaning.

I think the only thing I got out of that experience was ..


Well, I’m still standing there. Looking out the window.  I’ve been standing there looking out the window and wishing I could leave for a very long time.

I’m the only one with the keys.. you understand. I’m just not allowed to go out, you see, it’s the rules, so… I look.  My point, my point. I do have one, but it’s buried someplace in this fog. The point, the point is that everything is a circle.  I’m still planning elaborate escape routes. If I want to leave I just need to turn my head, see the keys, and take them.

Water Bearer

Hesitantly I open the chat window and let him in.

Intimacy through joking, instantly brings back

the way he smells, the look on his face when he

accepted my worship, granted my most

desperate begging just to taste him.

I am not strong.

I resent his new found steel,

the arrogant tilt of his eyebrows,

the knowing smile that lurks beneath his skin.

I resent the maenad within me, tearing and biting at my heart,

pushing me to go mad with desire, pushing me to beg him.

Please. Please.

Just let me touch you.

There is a lion trapped within me.

I cannot get her out, so I send things into her.  I feed her and feed her..

because she is always hungry. She paces back and forth and roars,

and it hurts my ears, and so I feed her. Chocolate and fruit and turkey

and candy and everything I can grab onto. She is never sated,

always wanting, but she never tells me what she wants, so I

can’t  give it to her.

All I can do is make her purr for a few minutes.

Or if I am lucky,

an hour.