copyright, 2014 SnappingTwig

Poem of the Week: Phantom

This sparks the fire on my opal tongue

There’s a scar where you kissed me last

Yesterday your religion was evacuated

I felt my body empty

I felt the engine burn up

You said, I sound like friction’s smoke

Two sticks becoming ash

Isn’t death just how you imagined?

When I close my eyes the new hands part my thighs

In winter numb is as easy as…

I open every door of this house

Let in the quiet wake of your fingers, love

If I freeze in this moment

inside me is all I remember of you


Poem & Image Credit: NET ©2014

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To My Mother

Who once told me I’d search for truth
all my life
Not knowing then what she meant
there were first years
I spent
On watch

And every cell of existing made me
fall in love with its fascination
Every drop of the shift
Between human and condition
I revel in this fortune that I am

Stare into its face
A reflection of her
A revolutionary bent on the pillar
Of her wisdom

Of her sincerity

Poem & Image Credit: NET 2014


Because outside winter barely breathes now

When the door opens into my home

I strip off my clothes

Cook my dinner with the whole

Flesh of my body before the stove

Become exposed so that all my cells

My minds voice whispers

Hints loudly of


So that my bones  shiver


Avoid forgetting the temperature change

I relish this small space

That my existence makes it small means nothing

The thrill of the thing

The whole of it – this keeps the wine glass full

I sip slowly letting it fall into a tiny trail

I feel it move down my throat as if warmer than


That point

And then

Because there would be one dream that would fill

My entire summer:


I stood in the rain, all my clothes clung to me

My limbs anticipating the chill

And without thought

One-by-one each article came off

I struggled a little with my pants

Peeling off bound mesh

They were heavy, confining

I was an orange that held my breath for too long

A snake that needed to stretch

Feel again

Let the sky fall on top of me


Let secrets make love to the rain

Let the pulp remember its own sexy sprawl

The mud could have me

If there were watchers, let them watch

Of course

The mind does what being human

Has taught it do, speculate

So it wrestled with me a little

Suggested there was some dirty here

Questioned me for a better truth


Why is this a peep show, do you crave a stranger’s touch?

It asks what I might hide from the world

From myself

Like a darkness tangled in my ribs


A growth takes over and all you are

That tumor

Who you were

Hidden in its shadow

And at the same time it

Does you a favor

It means to

Obscure reality

A conscious thing – a lie

Maybe even our bodies tell tales

But I didn’t need a hideout


It was just the intense desire

That distant voice of a child without

The scars of expectation

Without limits and boundaries

That freedom extension

Raw, organic

That simple lust – for life





An innocence we never get back

Returned by sleep and the shift of bones

That somehow know too much


NET ©2014

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Don’t Tell Me

I cannot explain the memory well
At times everything that happens becomes a ghost
Sometimes I want to slice my head open
Pull out the worms

Their intentions are fleeting but carry
Enough of the past it
Dares to take me down
I barely survive

I am just shy of

Through this
No one taught me how to gamble
That I should bet on hope

Upon departure

Are we there yet?

What does it mean

The other side?

Fights with the light where haunted
Determines free
Its not that my nightmares champion me
Everything that leaves us now become frozen

Except I am not a religious woman / I am not
A spiritual nomad / I
Cant find my way by following
I can’t find myself by reflecting some

Common / “accepted” theory
Even my own strands of cellular make-up
Don’t recognize one another

Who are we?

We just dance
Hope for
Remember the same steps
The way home

First time these lips were kissed
The last time this heart broke and every piece
Which now
Wrestle stillness

I don’t know anything / except that I am
Chemicals drawing my finger through
The condensate mirror
There is almost nowhere to hide

There is no such thing as pure oxygen
There are strings of atoms held together by glue
There are memories inside of me that are bigger
Than myself

And only this:

All of them if given the chance
Could eliminate me

All of them together hold more power
Than Gods

Don’t tell me not to be afraid


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Check Out Issue 17


If you are a fan of awesome literary magazines (you may have noticed we are) you’ll want to check out Words Dance which just released the June issue (#17) and includes some curious art along-side some killer poetry / prose. The writers included are worth taking a read and the featured artists are a blend of diverse and interesting talent.

Take a look – read issue 17 here or click the image below. If you like what you see, be sure to share what you discover or even better, why not subscribe to the magazine? As always, be sure to read those oh-so-important submission guidelines if you plan on sending in your own work.

Floral Anatomy: Skeleton by Trisha Thompson Adams   Property of artist via Words Dance (we do not own this)



You exist part function
Part mind blowing in the gut of truth
Which you do not declare by being truthful
But by evacuation of its
And there might reveal some arm of

If it were not for the outcome
The opposite factors that never add up
Or if it weren’t such a terrible fate

Of these words to assume
You no more than an equation
Which I would feel
guilt about
If you were not


NET ©2014

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