What the Dust Seems to be Saying - Claire Jackson

What the Dust Seems to be Saying

She sits in the house alone.
The sun trickles in, but she's always in a dark room.
Her eyes have long spent all the tears in her body.
A pain so deep her bones are weak and hurt to the touch.
A chill runs through the house and through her body,
but it doesn't matter -- she's always cold now.
She slowly closes her eyes and thinks back--
Back to a time when she smiled.
Back when the house was beautiful
and smelled of lavender and Pinesol.
Nothing was dull. Everything was in its place,
shiny and clean. Fresh flowers always on the table.
Something always baking in the kitchen
for when he'd get home.
But now -- all light, hope, and love is gone. Done.
Or at least that's what the dust seems to be saying.

The Silent Storm Inside My Arms - Ben Hedges

The Silent Storm Inside My Arms

Don't smile,
You haven't won.
My will is not dominated,
My resolve is not weakened.

You struck first,
My back now against a wall.
A cup, tipped over,
But not all of the liquid has escaped.

I pick myself up.
There is a silent storm inside my arms.
You shoved me, I should break you.
It's push come to punch in my own mind.

But I won't, because I care.

I care for the people I love,
there now, resisting my intent.

I care for my environment,
And the negative effects that would be brought upon it.

But mostly I care for you.

I have been trained many years of my life,
in ways of doing harm.
And though you have mistakenly judged this book by its cover,
it's merely a story I want you to read.
Though I am confident that your hurt would be greater than mine,
I will let your territorial pissings hold.
But don't smile,
Because I have won.

What Dead Birds Listen For - Peter Seiler

What Dead Birds Listen For

In the silence, the cold silence,
A glazed eye begins staring,
The shallow moon reflects,
Making the black pool seem alive.

There was a song before,
It went something like:
I want to live today,
For the sun is shining.

The eye can seemingly see,
But cannot possibly hear
The song that before was sung
And what dead birds listen for.

The Way the Sky Would Like to Touch the Snow - Ruth Patrick

The Way the Sky Would Like to Touch the Snow

Falling away, frozen, I think that's how it feels
sort of like your heart, I guess
when you gave up on me
last year

but I drifted down slowly, light and geometric,
scattering on the winds swirling eddies
trying, hoping against hope
to climb back up into your frozen grace

My tears
froze into spider web rainbows
on the face of the clock which counts down the time
between then and now

and now
white winter rages again
but your rage has never cooled
cold as your soul, cold as the tears I cried
when they from into frost ferns on the windshields of my eyes
rendering my sight
barred and smoky like jail room shadows
thawing slowly
in the warmth of the ashes that fall
from my cigarette's ember
like pale soft snow, swirling in my warm breath
as I blow them
away from the pages of my book.

They rise, reluctantly,
fall heavy and soft
the way the sky
would like to touch the snow
and I finally realize it really was already over
even then.

Death Trap - Cynthia Gomez

Death Trap

Can I add a minute to this day?
I've worried enough to create molecules of time.
They grow with each thing I can't control.
Reproducing faster with each debt I must pay.
They diminish with each carefree moment I have,
And keep me still from taking risks.
What Death wears,
His cloak drenched in minutes gone by
By people like me who beg for more
Let me add a minute to this day.
It will blur and slow down time
I will slowly blur down time.

What I Thought to Myself on a Dark Interstate Between One Home and the Next - Robert Tippin

What I Thought to Myself on a Dark Interstate Between One Home and the Next

In fourteen years I will be old.
I do not know what the future will hold,
When I am old,
In fourteen years.

Come find me and tell me
What it was like to be young.
But I won't remember,
For I will be old.

I am horrified,
And bitterly cold;
For in fourteen years from today,
I will be old.

The Concealed Weapon in a Smile - Mike Hodge

The Concealed Weapon in a Smile

The one that was there for you since day one,
just wanting to know,
and be helpful in every situation possible.
Grasping life at every
moment just to let it go.
Yeah, you talk a good talk but
can you walk a good walk?
Your kindness is a syndrome with no cure.
As good as you can make a person's day
It makes me realize that you have a
concealed weapon in a smile.
It has been used in many murders
but the cases always ran cold.
Trust me. I know.
The games you play will no longer exist
and I will win this battle.