Three Poems

I don't write a lot of poetry anymore.  I used to once upon a time, but my poetic muse has largely left me in the last several years.  Every so often words or phrases invade my head, or something happens and bits and pieces work into something resembling a poem.  These three, more or less, …

Flies

“Loretta,” her mother called from the living room over the rattle of the window unit. “Loretta!” she yelled when she received no answer. Loretta stood outside on the steps, smoking a cigarette. She could feel the cool of the kitchen coming through the screen door, teasing her as the sun poured down its heat. Bugs …

Luanne Forever

Gene watched the tattoo artist, one Sid Sinowski of No Mercy Tattoos & Body Piercings, mix Luanne’s ashes into the ink. The tattooist grunted from time to time as he worked, scratched at his thick neck which was covered in art like the rest of his exposed skin (save for his scruffy face). Even the …

Johnny-On-the-Spot

The crowd for Gladys Cobbridge's estate sale was composed mainly of curious neighbors wanting an inside glimpse of the woman's decrepit house and to peruse the daily items she touched with her, possibly, murderous hands.  They would buy a relic if the price was right.  With so low a turnout, a bargain was inevitable. Pots …