poetry, Publications, Writing Portfolio

Land of the South

Land of the South

Blue hazed mountains are my bones. 
Running rivers are my veins. 
Trees stretch high into my thoughts. 
Lone coyotes howl my pain. 

Wind tousles my grassy hair. 
Cattle march to my heart’s beat. 
A star-filled night blankets my eyes. 
Whippoorwills sing my melody. 

Under the mountain sits my house. 
Here I find rest; here is my home. 
Here, in this land of the south, 
I write the songs of my soul. 

Published in The Tennessee Magazine (July 2018)
Photo by Mike Lento

poetry, Writing Portfolio

Chasing the Moon

Chasing the Moon

There was a man who chased the moon. 
He said it was for love. 
I chased him round until we flew, 
The ground beneath us gone. 

The stars all looked like splintered glass 
With emptiness between. 
I asked him why we floated so. 
He said it was for love. 

A floating, wandering, unkempt love 
In search of a lost moon. 
He said the ground was too below, 
And us, we’re too far gone. 

This love is new and rich, I thought, 
Unlike I’ve ever seen. 
She’s chased and chased, but never caught. 
I asked him why he cared. 

“Unsafe, unknown, and wild, this love, 
But would you ever know? 
Her smile at night and pale, white light 
I’d rather chase than forgo.” 

Photo by I 


Eyes Closed

Eyes Closed

The sky is so blue. She closes her eyes and imagines that she’s falling. Falling. Falling, from very far away. Clouds surround her, and she starts to sing. The ground looks like her great aunt’s quilt. The air is so pleasant up here. 

A noise disturbs the silence. She opens her eyes to see a helicopter approaching from one side. It looks like a slowly approaching dot, but she knows what that almost see-through line on top of the dot represents. Spinning blades that will tear her apart. Her heart starts pounding, but she calms it. 

Surely they will see me. 

She’s falling so fast, but the helicopter is following. Struggling to keep up, yet still following. Pointed right at her in a slanted nose dive. Soon she will outfall it, and it will pass her up and be unable to catch her. 

Sure enough, the helicopter passes slightly overhead. She feels like laughing. 

But wait! Someone’s jumped out!  

It’s one of those smaller carrier helicopters that don’t have doors on the sides. She would have noticed if the door had opened. 

Now, the person is free-falling beside her, all adorned in white except for the black visor on the helmet. They have a parachute backpack on. They don’t have wings like her. 

She smiles, knowing she could outstretch her wings at any moment and let the person fall right past her. Strange how they manage to stay beside her, but slowly, slowly, they creep past her, falling just slightly faster because she hardly weighs anything. The helicopter circles around and is struggling to catch them again. The ground no longer looks so much like a quilt. 

The person outstretches their hand. 

“We’re here to help!” comes the muffled sound of a woman’s voice. 

“I’m fine!” she calls out and smiles, but the mystery woman continues reaching, moving as close as she can. 

It’s rare for someone to approach her in the sky. It’s hard to notice a falling speck. 

This person is running out of time to release her parachute. 

“Take my hand!” says the muffled voice. 

The mystery woman grabs her arm. She twists it back, but the woman’s got her. Her heart jumps to her throat. What is happening! Who is this! 

A sky fight. She hasn’t had one of these in a while. And never against a wingless person. 

Mystery woman grabs both her arms, and they spin. Spinning. Faster and faster. Her hair gets in the way, and all she can see is orangey-red that whips against her cheeks and eyes, forcing them closed. 

The woman has to deploy her parachute soon, and the jolt will allow her to escape. Yes! No need to panic. 

The wind is spinning in her ears too fast. She can’t hear the helicopter.  

“Margot…” She hears. The woman knows her name. Why isn’t the parachute deploying? What is that?  “Margot!” The woman’s got some kind of weapon. This evens the fight, but they’re too close to the ground. If she lets go to get away, the woman will probably fall to the ground and– 

“Margot! Supper is ready, c’mon!” 

She opens her eyes to the blue sky. It takes a minute for her eyes to adjust, then she rolls over and tumbles to her feet. She’ll have to finish the sky fight later. 

Photo by Johnny McClung