October 2024
Bio Note: I was raised on an acreage near the Snake River and now live in Boise. My works appear in numerous online and print journals as well as in the collections What These Hands Remember (Kelsay, 2022) and If Seasons Were Kingdoms (Fernwood Press (2024).
Broomstick
I see him there in shadows
holding his sharpened markers
inking the names of the dead.
By day this park is a haven
towering trees bathing the air
grass sighing green and golden.
But the night of All Hallows Eve
dry foothills shrink from twilight
and river swells the ravens’ caw.
The children have left the swings
emptied seats to twist in breezes
as the names of the dead thicken.
Dear Mother I hear you stirring
“Rest in Peace” above your name
spelled on the trunk of an elm.
The poplar leaves begin shaking
a call to the one writing names.
Surely you’ll find a kinder soul
she’ll be no good witch tonight.
No Faeries
She held my hand
the least touch frigid
her quickened pulse
and shallow breath.
I told her sure I’d stay
and trust her rooms
till dawn when cocks
crow off their heads.
But now the night chills
and all my toes twitch
in fear that Father Time
will scythe the door
and take us both away
to where coiled ropes
await and crowds cheer
to see us pay the death
we gave and reap.
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