She rolls new cigarettes

from the discards

she collects,

making the lonely trek

each morning

to sell them on the city streets.

Men never understand,

she tells me,

what women always have to sacrifice.

The bitter taste of betrayal

lingers in the air

like the acrid scent

of old cigarettes.


It’s a balmy 60 degrees here today. The winter wonderland of snow and ice brought on by this life threatening storm has dissolved into mud and more mud in my yard. We’ve lost all the lambs but one to the frigid air and bitter wind and only two of the kid goats are still here to prance in the spring-like air. But the dogs stretch happily inside the house where they’ve been sheltering from the storm; a small win among the losses.

The Storm

It rolls in on me like an unexpected summer storm, filling me with rage and despair. Hot trails of tears do nothing to soften the pain or wash away the visions of knives and veins. And just as suddenly, it’s over and I am left drained and empty. Until the next time.


I slip into darkness like slipping on a glove. It envelopes me until I float in a sea of raw emotion. I float, praying for release. If you look for me, I can’t be found. The darkness is complete.

Sneak Attack

I went shopping at the oriental store for the first time since you died. It’s been almost a year. I saw you in every little Korean woman shopping there. I made it down the first aisle before the tears spilled and I gasped for breath. Man, I miss you!


Minutes tick by into hours and still sleep eludes me. 2 AM stares me down, laughing at my pain.

And this pain…it rolls in on me like waves of fog, smothering me in its embrace, clouding my mind. It wraps around my limbs, binding me so tightly that I cannot move.

I’ve been lost in this dark place, the last few weeks a murky blur. I struggle to find some small spark of who I am to hold on to. But the dark claims me.