Pavane For A Dead Princess
She had the good grace to die young before the grueling desert sun melted the kohl around her eyes and creased her face like a crumpled paper bag. Her beauty’s sealed up tight beneath the bands of linen like a… Read more ›
Category Archives: Storypoems
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lovebites
doing the dirty on a mountaintop in Maine we didn’t expect no-see-ums attracted by the scent to bite us where we ain’t never been bit before for days we walked around stiff-limbed from the climb resisting with all our earthly… Read more ›
Aunt Belle’s Chinese Vase
Years after Ben’s accident at the mill, Belle’s memories of him were like pieces of the Chinese vase he’d bought her in Atlanta, the one the cats knocked over in the hall. No matter how artfully she tried to glue… Read more ›
Big-boned Ballerina Nightmare
Miss McGurphy’s ballerinas had the girth of a small Volks we never called them fat they were just full-figured folks in the bar below their school you could hear the clip-clip-clop of their enormous feet as they pliéd and pirouetted… Read more ›
The Scent of Love
Replicated from nature, Moneybackguaranteed to make a woman quiver with desire, the pheromones arrived in a plain brown wrapper, LoveScents stamped as sender. When he showed up at Jen’s door, she took one whiff and became a lioness in heat,… Read more ›
Après L’Amour
You’ve already left for work when I awake, embracing the empty air and breathing in your dimestore perfume that everyone mistakes for French. “Apres l’amour” sings Aznavour the tousled sheets still bear the imprint of our bodies. I can still… Read more ›
Una Canción de Esperanza
Déjame que te cante una canción de esperanza Allow me to sing you a song of hope: That frigid winter morning when Carlos left his house and crossed the withered field, it could have been the last day of his… Read more ›
Pardonne-Moi
They say that men who are a little maladroit make better lovers. Actually, nobody says that except moi, when I want to improve my chances of having a petite affaire. I used that line on Françoise in the captain’s lounge… Read more ›
The Perennial Loser
His wife referred to him as the perennial loser. His investments soured, his business bellied up, he grew so heavy you could hear his labored breathing each time he crossed the room. When finally she left him his life took… Read more ›
A Shayna Maidel
Rivka stumbled into old age with an air of bewilderment as if all the signs on the Concourse were now in foreign script, as if her own body had become a stranger: her olive skin tattooed with ugly brown islands,… Read more ›