Friday, December 18, 2015

Your narcissistic flower

Your malicious glare rips through
this cellophane wall
I’ve so carefully
drawn over my ragged nerves

but to my surprise
I feel nothing,
nothing at all.

Your narcissistic flower
blooms bilious yellow
in the corner of the room.

If I fail to bring it water
will it shrivel
and die?

Rachel Westfall
December 18, 2015

Thank you, Christopher, for this conversation in poetry.

Monday, November 23, 2015

Announcing: A Trail of Dreams

A Trail of Dreams

My daughter and I just published our second Sasquatch Tale. Please check it out!

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

Reversal at forty below

Shards split off
and fall away. This mewling thing
emerges, reddened,
bold and puffy, burned raw.

I'd step outside again
but for the fear
that winter's splintered grasp
will devour me, whole.

Burrow deep
into this nest of covers;
shiver at the prospect
of shearing away 
their velvet heat.

It's time, I think,
to be unborn again.

Rachel Westfall
January 6, 2015