Was her brother a dream? (99 word story)

Was her brother a dream?

The boy in the garden was resurfacing. They’d played make-believe siblings before those words; “You know, don’t you?” She’d read his hurt at her confusion as anger, so had retreated. Spikey adults argued above them. Fragments of that conversation, and one other ambush cut deep enough to scar.

His echo became an imaginary friend, then guardian angel, then shadow. She forgot the name she hadn’t liked in her princess days, then misplaced his memory for decades. But he never left her.

It was weird loving someone you weren’t sure existed.

Then Darren’s letter arrived.

Why is it all about the ‘base’?

but they still talk about the Trumpist base
all ‘bout the base, not justice,
but some of that Trumpist base are fascists
it’s ’bout that base, ’bout that base, not justice
it’s all ’bout that base, ’bout that base …

Mother Mezuzah; a Tree of Life Tale

Becca lived with her dad, Jo, and her younger sibling, Jacob, near the city park. From her bedroom window in their attic, some of the remaining trees of an ancient forest seemed to spill into their garden. Everyday her dad would put Jacob in a toddler carrier on his back and they’d welcome the day…

Rowan

Hello all, I hope this finds you and your loved ones well. If it doesn’t you are in my thoughts and prayers. The following is one poem from a temporary flurry of art and words on the Tree of Life. For me this is a celebration of not only Tu B’ Shevat, the birthday of…

Dear Antisemite; a poem for Holocaust Memorial Day

The poem below is the first of a collection it has taken me a long time to share. I’ve not been sharing my work broadly for a while, both for health reasons and the sense of being silenced. Enough said on that one. This Holocaust Memorial Day I am sharing this. It is actually being…

Forgotten Eve

Hear this modern Eve,

where the apple slices sharp

the wax drowns new wicks

swallowing the knife of words

watch a candle cut to flame,

choaked, a blessing came

with an absence of honey;

uttered without tune

where weary throats broke quavers

on past moons, hope a sliver.

Antonia Sara Zenkevitch

A Billion Raindrops

A billion raindrops

fall like all the promises

you forgot you made,

cold, tired, soaked to my bones

I seek trumpets in the storm.

MRI x2

“Breathe in, breathe out, hold your breath,

breathe normally,”

a recorded voice instructs,

reiterates

as other sounds pierce my heart,

I feel entombed

staring at that small black hole

as I comply, …

Blue Eons (Anagram Verse)

blue eons observe

lone silence’s ire,

in it yells a curse

to rile oceans;

to rouse bile in us,

yet envoys arise

to yearn,

to learn

in soul’s urn

obverse to ruin;

converse orations

annul bribes;

no absolutions

in love’s alibis

yet our orisons

vault bliss; …

Self-Sustaining

To sustain the self Is fraught with complexities, I remain alive.   Hello All, I hope you have enjoyed your Sunday! I’ve not been physically or mentally able to write or blog post this last fortnight. I won’t bore you with all the details but it is due to a domino effect of connected flare-ups…