She gazes at him from her tree. The pendant glistens in the moonlight. A silver flash catches his eye, and he draws closer. A forcefield between their bodies cements her to her spot. His eyes move from the stranger’s bare chest to where the jewel heart rests. That was my mother’s, he says #writeCBC

Now she’s in London, her pull is absolute, a magnetic field between heart and stone. Paintings whisper as he descends the museum’s womb, each canvas a siren. He falls to his knees at her monumental hips, the soft sheen of calcite arresting. In her blank face, he sees all women, all divine. #WriteCBC

He checks the hallway before letting her in. Stockings and high heels step into plush carpet and hot tub steam. ‘I’m Ava.’ Just like he pictured her. His for the night. Jen is left at the threshold, traded gladly for silk and thrill. His hand finds the small of her back without searching. #WriteCBC

Don’t put your writing on a pedestal #WritingCommunity

My eyes pick up rotting eggs, start to sting and water. Tears drip down my cheeks, singing a sad song I remember from being a girl. The darkness touches my neck, presses down with the bitter taste of death. #writeCBC

#poetry #poem #worldpoetryday #anger