Enjoy her 

I’m going away a while, 
My body will take my place. 
Enjoy yourself. 
Don’t be embarrassed, 
I won’t be here to see what you’ve done.

No repurcussions 
What will you do?
Who will you make me for you? 
Now I’ll go and you
Enjoy her. No, really it’s fine.


Tell Me A Little Bit About Yourself

Tell you about myself?
What do you want to know?
Look at my instagram 
Happy in each photo.

Or do you want statistics?
Name, age, date of birth?
The city I was born in?
Amount I’m worth?

How about some letters
At the end of my name?
Or high school, colleges, 
What I became?

Or the juicy ones
That you’ll spread around?
Bipolar Type 2, Pure Obsessive,
Chronically down. 

I don’t think you understand.
You can’t SEE me. 
You can’t tell who I am,
By my degrees.

Not by email, 
Not by text, 
Not by picture, 
Or what I do next.

I’m not who I was, 
Nor who I am now. 
Or what you see:
What I allow.

You have to talk to me
You have to learn
You can’t know a person, 
It’s something earned. 

There is no I AM
I cannot just BE
Bipolar, these obsessions,
They’re part of me.

I’m always changing
I don’t know who I am
I can tell you facts,
But you’ll never understand.

I’ll tell you 
What I think you want to hear
Because I know how you think, 
I know what you fear. 


Her Storybook

If want to open her storybook, 
You need a saw. 
Get your rib spreader and your clamps,
Your scissors perhaps.
Cut her deep
Then grab between her breasts, 
Her ribs open like a book. 
But if you try to read her, 
Try to take a look,
There’s just guts and blood and pills.
Try her eyes
There you will see 
Her story waiting. 
But you can’t read that either.


Thank you for having me!

“Thank you for having us!” My father said. A show of white teeth. He said it was important to be polite. 

Even though we didn’t like the food.  
When I was 10 I went to a friend’s house for dinner. When my dad picked me up he said, “Did you thank them?” 

“Thank you for having me!” I said. 

Even though I felt awkward.   
When I was 13 I went for a girls sleepover. 

“Thank you for having me!” I said. 

Even though I didn’t have fun.   
When I was 16 I met a boy named Steven. He was so cute, everyone said. We ate dinner with his dad, who swore at his Mom.  

“Thank you for having me!” I said. 

Even though it made me uncomfortable.
When I was 17 I met a man named Bill. He bought me a margarita I think. I went home too late.  

“Thank you for having me.” I said.

 Even though I vomited on the sidewalk. 
When I was 18 I met a man named Roy. He said he loved me. 

“Thank you for having me.” I said. 

Even though I said no.

The Burial 

For eighteen years
Breathing was not without 
Joy pouring out 
Too loudly in
Frenzied conversation.
Interruption –
Need’s release. 

Thoughts married to  
My urgent vocalizer 

Passion surges out 
Tongue alive 
Lips move 
Frenzied thoughts released 

Gelatinous organ now


What’s Left of my porcelain shell.
Till furrowed brows
Almost reveal… 
But no,
The Right one,
Is the gooey gatekeeper of
My vociferation.  

Later they’ll find

Scratch marks inside
My ovaloid coffin.


The door slams open with a thump, forming a dent in the cream colored wall. Laughter from wine and spirits echo from the doorway to the jacuzzi tub. Torn white frills, loose ties and frizzy hair fill the doorway, and the kempt room is slovenly invaded.

She’s beautiful, when not inebriated. I understood his lust, her skin porcelain smooth, lips cherry red. She was confident, snarky, and full of hate. Male attention was a staple to her diet (which I assume was the only thing she consumed). Dainty, the wedding dress now ate her.

I had met Stephanie in Dr. Peter’s office. A plastic surgeon with a glorious new building – stained glass windows patterned with historically beautiful women, a waiting room with leather recliners, and pretty secretaries appearing behind sliding etched glass.

Dr. Peters was a friend of my father and hired me as a secretary. On my first day I skipped into the office and said hello to a woman with a porcelain doll face, she didn’t reply immediately, then smirked “nice headband.”

I picked up the phone when it rang only to have her rip it out of my hand and slam it down on the receiver.

“I answer the phone. I talk to clients. I AM the looks.” She said. “Am I making myself clear?”

“Sure” I said.

At first patients loved Stephanie, but eventually they came to adore me. I remembered their names, birthdates, allergies, and medications. I read up on procedures and medication reactions (Stephanie rolling her eyes every time I picked up a book). And I perfected an excel program for scheduling.

Dr. Peters noticed my studiousness and let me assist him during a Rhinoplasty. Eventually he sent me to nursing school, and I began working with him in the operating room at the larger hospital across the city.

I met the dreamy Theodore there. A sales rep with a charming smile. I made him laugh. He bought chocolate, and a diamond ring.

One evening Theo and I stopped by Dr. Peter’s office. He commented on how beautiful Stephanie was. “Yeah” I said out loud. “On the outside” I thought to myself.

He invited her over for “family dinner.” She touched his arms, and displayed her cleavage.

She manipulated him, I know she did. He was kind. But she was cunning and spiteful. Months passed and my fiancé grew weary of me. In the office Stephanie made sly comments to me about the size of his dick. I found a red thong on our bedroom floor.

He felt trapped. He told me he was in love. I cried and cried, and fell into a deep depression. I told him I wanted everything to just go away. To end it all.

Theo didn’t want to look like a bad guy by rejecting me. One day he made my morning tea, which was out of character. I grew weary and went down for a nap. I never woke up.

Until today.

I appeared in a honeymoon suite. “Just Married” was spelled in rose petals and a bottle of champagne had “Theodore & Stephanie January 1st 2016” printed on it. 2016???! This morning when I had my tea it was March 1st, 2015. I turned and looked in the mirror. My lack of reflection revealed the truth.

Fuck! That mother fucker killed me! He took me seriously when I said I wanted it all to go away. Thought it was the easy way out, put me out of my misery, and become the grieving fiancé, everybody wins.

I watch helplessly as Theo and Stephanie enter the room. He throws her down on the bed, ripping her wedding dress. I’m invisible to them, always have been, literally now. Pulling him in by his collar she demands “Eat my pussy!” He laughs and obliges, then unzips his pants.

Oh hell no.

I climb on top of Stephanie, and my spirit sinks into her body, I consume her actions. Finally in control of her. I use her spindly legged slutty stilettos to kick him in the stomach. She struggles to regain will. Theo looks at her puzzled, holding his stomach, then laughs and rips her stilettos off and climbs on top of her. Inebriated she goes along with it. Always the puppet. The pretty doll.

I leave Stephanie’s body sink and sink into Theo’s. I feel his strength, his lust. I move his body to her head and make him say “part your lips.” I am the ventriloquist. She follows his orders, my orders. I thrust his dick into her mouth and plug her nose with his right hand, at first he doesn’t resist my control, until I won’t let him stop. He struggles to break free from my spirit’s control, but I am the vengeful marionettist.

Stephanie thrashes, her face turns blue and right before her doll’s eyes roll back in her head I make him say:

“Ann says hi.”



I published this originally today for a poetry challenge at theprose.com Please click the hyperlink as the challenge also takes into account the number of views.

I Wore White

I wore white.
Impressive interview. 
As usual. 

I make them laugh and laugh. 

My patient told me, “you are great at what you do.”
A patient.
Drugs and rope, his ticket in. 
Two hundred and fifty pounds lost to a shower rod.

The nurses laugh.
Can’t cope.

Weak and stupid, 
Can’t kill himself right.

Not his first time
In hospital restraints.

I didn’t say,

I ate my pills for breakfast and
hid my demon today.

I didn’t say, 

I’m glad my dad failed,
in the garage.

I didn’t say, 

He’s too smart to 
Kill himself right.

Code blue came to us,
Most experienced, 
I led the team. 

I didn’t say,
I once had a ticket. 

I wore white. 



At bottom of the rocky gorge a river beautiful moved with destructive force. I stood at the top, my gaze drawn like rocks sinking, my toes kissing the rim. The water was grey, not from filth, but from clay. I closed my eyes and the wind swayed my body like a sapling tree. I played a game in my head: “if the wind pushes me towards the river, I’ll jump.” The wind pushed West, parellel to the ravine. Today was not the day. 


Based on a True Story 

Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

“I never like the guy, not one bit”

“I know Britt, but she doesn’t need to hear that right now, not at a time like this”
Hahhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.
Hahhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhht.

“Dinah??? Dinahhhh??? Can you hear me??? It’s Britt!…. DINAH!”
Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

Hahhhhhhhhhh, Pppphhhhhhht.

Britt reaches to poke her sharp neon nail into Dinah’s shoulder, but her sister grabs her arm and pulls her back to her chair.

“Britt.. Just let her be. She needs to rest. I’m going to go grab the photos of Wishbone and Fifi that I left in the car, at least if she opens her eyes she’ll have them by her side. Just like always. Be back soon”
Hahhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

Haahhhhhhh, Pppphhhhhhht.

As Britt gazes at Dinah her eyes fill with tears. She thinks of the anomosity between them since Dinah married Chuck. An alcoholic with a mean streak. He always reeked of cigarettes and unwashed clothes, and was constantly abusive to Dinah’s dogs. 

Sighing, she reaches up and strokes Dinah’s brunette hair, now streaked with wirey grey. 
Hahhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

Hahhhhhhhhh, Pppphhhhhhht.

As kids they had always been close. The distance was hard on her. But she couldn’t stand being around Chuck, and seeing the way Chuck treated Dinah!!

Her clenched fist relaxes when she sees Dinah’s forehead slightly furrow. 
Hahhhhhhhhhh, Phhht. Phhht. 

Britt jumps back startled. A nurse is at the bedside immediately, she makes an adjustment on the ventilator, and dismisses it with a wave of her hand. 

 Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

The sounds of her sickness back on beat. Dinah’s forehead relaxes again. 

“Brittany, Dinah has another visitor in the waiting room.” The young nurse asks.” Is it ok if I let him back?” 

She scowls. “Actually, I’ll step out first… I assume it’s Chuck..” She gives the nurse a knowing glance. Getting up she starts to leave but glances back “Just uh, keep a close eye on him when he’s in here okay?” 

“No problem dear.”
Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.
 Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

When her patient’s husband steps in, his nurse enters the room as well, and pretends to be checking on her IV fluids. She holds her breath to prevent herself from gagging at the smell of filth and smoke. Giving Chuck a half smile she tells him, “I’ll be outside the room if you need anything.”

Chuck grunts.

Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

The smell of cigarettes lingers in the hallway. The nurse shuts the curtain almost all the way and leaves the door cracked, she pulls her chair and computer as close as possible without being noticed.
Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

Chuck stands over Dinah. Dinah remains comatose. 

“I finally did it.” He tells her. “Everything I said I’d do. Your stupid crystal animal collection. Gone. Smashed them all.” He croaks and a dirty smirk comes across his face. He leans in closer to whisper in her ear. Stacy inches closer in her chair “And those dogs of yours, I killed them too.” 

Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

– LRose
(This is based on a true overhead conversation)

In The Summer At Normandy

In the summer, we went to Normandy.
The sea glinted,
Dogs frolicked off leash,
children played in the sand.

In the summer at Normandy,
Technology is left behind
in favor of the timeless
sounds of children laughing.

In the summer at Normandy
People bathe in the sea,
as shallow tides reveal
partially sunken tanks.

In the summer at Normandy.
We rest by a concrete German bunker,
next to rusty barbed wire,
and watch children play.

In the summer at Normandy,
We look through the slot,
crouching in dirt
imagined thousands of soldiers shot.

In the summer at Normandy.
I think of Grandfather’s stories,
of D-Day horrors, the deaths
of ten thousand men.

The summer we went to Normandy,
I watched a blond boy carry a red kite
toward sparkling sea,
and knew they all died,
so this could be.

Part One

She awoke with a start, her cheek pressed to the cold cement floor. Her mouth was parched, and her frightened heart rate hammered in her skull. Drawing the sheet more tightly around her, she shivered, realizing now, her nudity.
“Finally awake!” A hoarse voice jeered at her. “Good morning princess. Here have some water!”

She rose into a cross legged position, in time to see a bowl fly through the slot in the evil latitudinal bars. Drops flew into the air as the bowl cylindrically crashed then trembled with increasing frequency. 

It’s raining from my eyes. She thought, and memories from the previous day flooded in.