Poems

Mortal One-Offs and Other Trials Teeth in the TeapotA town gossip wakes at an endless tea service where every secret she spills drops a tooth into her cup. When she runs out of teeth, she has to decide if she’ll shut up or drink. Ash on the Gingerbread RoofA baker who used children as props […]

Parting WorldsGoodbye to the dreams that held us tight,Goodbye to the battles fought through night.Theworlds must part, the curtain falls,Yetechoes will linger in these sacred halls. Time may soften the sharpest scars,But leaves behind the stories ofwho we are.Through every tearand every bend,We find the strength to make amends. Farewell to the magic that shaped

Mirror’s EdgeOutroHatband numbers tick their trick; the wind repeats her pledge,She moves,and every measured step writes law along the edge.

Molasses Gospel, Knife-Edge RunAnd if you swear you’ve trapped me in your palm with sugar dust across your lip,Look close—that taste is rumor; close your fist and feel itslip,I’m already ten fences on, a scorch along your lungs,a splinter in your grip,I’m the outlaw hymnthe oven sang the night the story flipped.

Mercury On The TeacupsKettle fades to a copper purr while cards lie stilland mirrors grin with someone I half-recalland half erase,I drain the last bright vicious inch and let the metal settle in,ten shillings six pence ringing silent in the space,Somewhere far from ticking clocks a road begins to bend and breakbeneath my feet,And every

Mad as a HatterOutroThe sign keeps swinging, the clocks resume,the angles keep their draw,She leaves with ground beneath her feet;he tips the brim and swallows raw.

March of ShadowsMarch with shadows, hearts ablaze,Through the dark, we claim our days.Every step,the threads unwind,Toward the truth we seek to find. The path is paved in fractured time,each stone a fleeting dream,Where roots of liesand shattered fates weave through the flowing stream.The sky above, a hollow gray,holds secrets sharp and deep,Yet in our veins,

Lost and ColdShe beckons them with treats and cunning,Her intentions wrapped in malice,Their doom sealed with a smile,In this confectionerypalace.The witch’s cackle, cold and clear,Rings through the frosty air,In her grip,they face their fear,Trapped in her icy lair.

Lullaby With Knives Behind The BowOutroShe shuts the lid on dancers wound too tight and lets the tune go flat and meanwhile silence sharp as razors clears a thin black lane,She pockets what once felt holy, proof of touch, and keeps it as a weight, not as a god, then squares her shoulders to the

Jack and Jill’s DelightOutroShe leaves with want aligned to hand and law that fits the bone,Tenthen six ticks somewhere faint, the hinge man pays alone.