Unnatural Wound

Sophia’s skin pulled tighter over her shoulders and the first tears formed along either side of her spine. It was time. She threw off her pajamas and climbed onto the tree outside her window, making her way to the limb that would give her back the most exposure to the full moon’s light. Finding the branch that held her teeth marks from full moons past, she bit down. Her emerging wings pushed through, widening the tears into gashes. She bit down harder, until a pair of amethyst colored wings fully unfurled themselves.

Relaxing her jaw, Sophia pulled her mouth away from the branch and rested. She opened and closed her wings slowly and let them drink in healing moonlight while her heightened senses picked up the perfume of every flower in her backyard. Once her wings were strong enough, she pushed away from the branches and flew.

Sophia soared over her street, the feel of the wind on her skin wiping away any lingering aches she had. She flew high enough to take in most of her small town in a glance. Her high school was easy to get to, but Sophia decided she didn’t want to waste her time on pranks again. Tonight she wanted to spend every moment in the air. So she did, flying until the moon had gone down behind the hills of the next town over.

Her grin disappeared as soon as her feet touched down at home. Sophia ran her fingers along the edge of a wing. The longest she had kept them was three days, when her parents were away. But tomorrow was a school day. And they grew back every month. So she went to the shed, just as she always did, and grabbed garden sheers to cut her wings off in small enough pieces to bury them in the compost bin. 

This short story is part of Magaly Guerrero's and Emily Yardis' Beautiful Freak Fest 2017. Follow the link to meet some more beautifully freaky fun.

Daydreams and Nocturnes

Daydreams (where I feel blades
of grass, taste each grain
of sugar as it melts, blaze
from the heat of sparks
bursting from constellations
made from all the aspirations 
and imaginings too big
for small worlds)

and nocturnes (with the hungry lilt
of an unfinished love song
I can't help but sing along to,
that makes goosebumps dance
with delight, as a cool rush of air
kisses my skin and teases
with the hint of places
not yet discovered) –

these twine around my atoms
like jasmine on a trellis,
releasing its bewitching fragrance
on hot summer nights,
if you care to stay up
and witness it.

This poem was inspired by the prompt given at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads: I Am Made Of  where Magaly asks us to contemplate what we are made of.


I am a giant –
at least I pretend to be –
standing among seedlings.

But I know
I’m only beginning
to bloom too. I manifest

all I need
to grow into myself,
drawing from

all the good green things.
They make up my seed coat. Let’s see
what my flowering will look like.

This poem was inspired by the prompt given over at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads: Word Count With Mama Zen. She asked us to draw a tarot card as our inspiration for a short poem. I happened to have this card in my hand when I read the prompt and thought. "Why not?" I love the way the figure in the card, which is meant to be a child/youth looks like a giant because of the perspective in the picture.