Poems

Soot, Soles, and Suspect Magic [Wreath]Morning sneaks in sideways through the living room curtains, thin winter light filtering over a battlefield of boxes, paper, and candy wrappers that crinkle every time the radiator sighs and the couch shifts under sleeping adults who clearly lost the fight with gravity and late night sweets,The tree blinks a […]

Stocking Hung in Sulfur [Wraith]The fireplace in this rented house never burns quite right, flames leaning left like they’re drunk or dodging something, logs popping with the sound of ribs under a boot,We hung stockings anyway, cheap red felt things with names glitter-glued on crooked, a little tradition duct-taped over the year’s unpaid debt and

Snowfall That Swallows Sound [Wreath]The first flake arrives without ceremony, drifting past the streetlamp like a bored thought, slow and sideways, testing gravity’s mood,Not a storm yet, not even a real decision, just a single white whisper that slips past the sodium halo and lands where the pavement broods.I stand at the window in an

Solstice Debt Collector [Wraith]The village wears its winter like a bruise that never healed right, purpled sky and white-stitched roofs sagging under all the weight they never asked to carry,Every chimney coughing out thin prayers of smoke that scatter quick in the hard cold air, like even the sky is done listening, tired and wary.Snow

Snowfall That Ignores The Countdown [Wreath] The room glows in secondhand colors that used to be vivid sometime around eight in the evening,bottles sweating on the coffee table next to a bowl of chips that died bravely three hours ago,and I am half folded into the same sagging couch that has seen too many almosts

Snowbitten Hands, Hearthfire Hearts [Wreath]Out on the corner where Main Street leans into December and the streetlamp hums like an old drunk humming carols under his breath,the bus stop bench wears a crust of ice like armor, salt crunches under boots, and the wind has teeth sharp enough to rename your skin,and still they stand

Snow That Teaches the World to Whisper [Wreath]The first flakes arrive without asking permission, slipping sideways through the glow of crooked porch lights and tired streetlamps,threading themselves through the air like tiny white edits to a sentence the sky got embarrassed about halfway through and decided to rewrite in hush instead of thunder,and you catch

Snow-Drunk Silence On The Way Back [Wreath]By the time you finally back out of the driveway, the porch light still throws that judgmental cone over the snowbank where seven pairs of footprints and one mysterious skid mark testify against everyone who pretended they were sober enough to leave without a scene,The house behind you glows

Snow Siege At Lot B [Wreath]Snow starts as a rumor on the windshield, just a shy lace edge creeping down from the wiper line,Little white scouts landing soft, testing the glass like they are checking the locks before inviting in the rest of the blizzard’s family,Mall lights glare ahead in sugar high colors, the giant

Snow Standing In For Tears [Wreath]The living room is too bright and too loud, that special holiday mixture of fake cheer and genuine exhaustion that scrapes nerve endings raw,Voices bounce off the framed photos and the silver garland, jokes overlapping, cutlery clinking, somebody’s playlist fighting for dominance with three conversations and a barking dog,You sit