dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: stories

the sin we’ve sown
chokes as it blooms
bright yellow,
its dark face mocks the sun

the skin we’ve grown
shifts with weight
and worry,
and wisdom doesn’t keep
the wrinkles away

the wind we’ve known
lifts grime and treasure
with the same late whistle
to which trees, grass, and legs
tremble and sway
like ticks holding on
to skin and blood

Brightly colored streamers

Sprout like chia hair

From your nodding head.

They whip in the wind

Of nearby boring conversations,

Stubbornly hanging in place

Like a birthday piñata.

Stories shoot like silly string

From our painted fingernails

As we grip the dinner table.

My hand gestures

Catch each colored strand

While short confetti giggles

Burst sporadically out of our

Wide suppertime smiles.