floating on my wings

In a lust-cocoon
submerged,
wrapped, spun
and afloat
in the deep
dark colors
around your pupils

Until it all got too heavy
I took a deep breath
closed my eyes
and sunk to the bottom
holding my dream stones
tight in my palms

Silent serenity
and wordless magic
brought
metamorphosis
to my lips
and I can now
Navigate rivers
I thought I’d only wonder about

Paddling lying on
my glossy wings
smudged and kissed
with blue-green,
purple and yellow
pucker-prints
to lands with white sand,
roses and doves




Totally Optional Prompts: Transformation

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Golden cages

Eyes lined with glittery shadow confessed her sadness in my kitchen over a glass of Johnny Walker Black. Just a few months ago she spent years living in an Egyptian condo.

He was an older white man who needed a translator, caretaker, and occasional lover.
The American businessman rescued her from a common life at the ripe age of eighteen.
She occasionally walked among her people, flashing diamonds and designer clothing.

"I was like a bird in a beautiful golden cage. Fifteen years...I had everything, but money doesn't buy you happiness.”

Her voice cracked and she took a sip of Jack.

“I would give it all back and live as a poor Egyptian," she cried. "I wasted my young years drinking by myself in the fanciest of hotels in France, Italy, Spain..”

Later that week, closing her eyes on Rockaway beach she felt the souls of pharaohs and dark rivers in her heart. In her sand there are leopard fish skeletons with rose petal hearts.

Her pink lips part under her sparkling eyes. “Here I am in New York City," she thought. "I have nothing. I am free..”

Starfish Constellations

I wonder about the window
that’s collecting dust as the leaves
are changing colors
close my eyes and hold a seashell
to my ear
listening the ocean
call me back to the beach house
where I can watch the moments
float round and round
in a summer time capsule


In the room above the house
oars rested in fishnets draped
across the ceiling
holding starfish constellations
It was a watch tower
between the sea and moon
Where the sandy breeze tickled my face
Sometimes I can still taste the sea salt

My dark eyes often transport me
I explore the bookshelves of thick texts
with old brown covers that dim the room
You pour me some wine
and I sit close while you read
your favorite poem
about a bird
by Edgar Allen Poe
chasing each word with your finger
as you read them syllable by syllable

On cold nights like tonight
I lie under a deep sea of blue comforters
envisioning the starfish constellations
And I whisper poe's lines:
“the raven sitting lonely…
spoke only that one word, as if his soul
in that one word he did out pour”