Gratitude is my religion. Thanks for being here.
I am lost at sea. Floating and Falling As my head bobs Up And Down On the waves Of your breath. The ebb of your exhale.
By Annie B.11 months ago in Poets
Heart racing. Hands shaking. Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Bacon frying. Bread baking. Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Saltwater. Chapstick. Hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
By Annie B.about a year ago in Poets
I can see her so clearly in my memory- My beautiful mama beaming back at me. Standing there at the kitchen stove, I can still smell the cinnamon,
By Annie B.2 years ago in Poets
The human memory can be a beguiling thing. Like when someone dies. Everyone magically forgets that Aunt Linda in the casket there was a raging alcoholic that verbally abused anyone who was unfortunate enough to brush up against her.
By Annie B.2 years ago in Fiction
What is this about, I say. I'm suiting up. The pad of your middle finger skis down the slope of my spine, disappearing into the valley of my sex.
Barely tolerable water flows freely from the faucet onto my rosy hands. Rivulets of pearly bubbles streak their way to my wrists as I scrub gravy from one of our ‘fancy' plates with a worn scotch-brite.
First and Foremost, As your Earthly Host, Let Me say, Welcome, My Friend! There's much to see! If you will, Follow me!
I felt the first bullet that had ever been fired at me cut through air above my shoulder. It wasn’t the last. The second one didn’t miss. The side of my calf exploded in fire, and I went down.
By Annie B.3 years ago in Fiction
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. I looked up over my right shoulder to watch the simulated moon, the shape of a Crescent this night, rise to its appointed spot on the sky screen.
Screens couldn't hold us. Outside from morning to night. Street lights called us home.
By Annie B.3 years ago in Poets
Even a trickle Will cut stone and river rage If time will allow.
The sun sets on me. As you lament in noon light, Your child greets the dawn.
