no place like home(land)
streamlined duality that punctures the lungs—
fiery language melting pitch.
devouring heaped-on dung with relish,
adulation showers to a gleam.
cry. question. mock. laugh. scream.
sundogs at twilight howl their response,
glazing over back-rolled eyes.
pedaling nowhere on their way to mercy,
rosy-eyed children in limbo dream.
Green Teddy Bear
I’ve had blood clots in the past but it’s been a while so I’m not worried about a two-day car trip. We make numerous stops to walk around and I wear my compression socks the whole time—no big deal. Besides, I’m running on adrenaline and my mind is distracted by everything that needs to be done once we arrive.
destination wedding the baby doesn’t make it
Robin Smith is an emerging disabled writer and visual artist in Wilmington, DE. Her work appears in a variety of international online and print journals, as well as Unsealing Our Secrets: A Short Poem Anthology About Sexual Abuse. More at her website: chokeberrychai.com and Twitter: @chokeberrychai.
Image by Peter Dutton, found on Flickr: https://flic.kr/p/684f87