Wordsmith Wednesday: Poem XIX

The thing

about being

tested

by fire

is that

you walk out

with ashes

at your feet

and flames

at your fingertips

Firestone Friday: Poem XVIII

You speak

different languages

between

the morning

and

the night,

and I love

the way

my name

sounds

in every

single

one

of them.

(Happy Valentine’s Day.)

Touchstone Tuesday: Poem XIII

People tell me

they don’t get

poetry.

I want

to tell them

if they’ve ever

fallen asleep

with a

broken heart

or cried

as their child

wrapped their hand

around their fingers

for the first time,

they not only

understand poetry:

they’ve been

living it

for years.

On Drinking

How

are you

my

steaming mug

of coffee,

my

hot-day

lemonade,

and my

whiskey

on the rocks?

_______________________

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Safe

Wordsmith Wednesday: Poem XVII

Space for Expression