#173 – Woman One Hundred


She turns the final page

which merely held chapter one

and imagines

the sweet musty perfume

of old papers.


She feels the pinch of

a delicate page

crumble to yellow dust.


Watching characters disappear

between fingertips

she never reads the final word.


She inhales

a heavy breath

blows it all away.

#171 – Woman Ninety Eight


Slumped in her dusty chair

on the porch encircled with pale flowers,

dark ruby liquid filled her belly



Through warm morning hours

the sun scanned across

her still form

painting her neck and face

a rosy pink color.


At three in the afternoon

she was discovered.


Her supine body

placed in the garden

cordoned off by

yellow ribbons cautioning

a tragedy.


In the dusk

her orange leather boots stood sideways

discarded on the grey cement curb.

#170 – Woman Ninety Seven


She spun in messy circular movements.

Actions jerky and asymmetrical,

abrupt and sharp on her torso.


Her head shook

violently to one side,

then her neck torqued –

already crunched and spasming

with old injuries.


It went back and forth like this.


Her belly rolled

then her arm swung round

to catch it all.


A relentless vertigo

detached head from body,

mind from control.


Upright, here it was.

#169 – Woman Ninety Six


She opened the door

stepped onto the sidewalk

turned the corner

traversed the square

rounded the bend


and floated up from the earth

lingering for five dreamy seconds


bones became feathers

muscles, air

she viewed thoughts and apprehensions disintegrate,

drift away


landing gently back on solid ground,
she continued walking

#168 – Woman Ninety Five


She heard half a dozen bumps in the blue night


a scurry across the fence

a screech that echoed

low murmurings in the distance

a close thump like a footstep

frantic rustling in the ivy

nails scratching and digging


In a spell

she realized

these reverberations were emanating from her own body

sleep shielded her again

#167 – Woman Ninety Four


Jakelin Caal Maquín, a Guatemalan girl, “died soon after she was apprehended by Border Patrol with her father after they entered the U.S. aiming to seek asylum.

There were traces of streptococcus bacteria in Jakelin’s lungs, adrenal gland, liver and spleen, according to her autopsy. The infection led to sepsis and organ failures.”

Jakelin was seven years old.

#165 – Woman Ninety Two


She didn’t plant a garden and struggled to reconcile this decision made by time.

She forgot to tuck a tiny tomato plant into the chunky dry earth

or randomly drop tiny kale and eggplant seeds along the narrow plot of arid dirt.

There hadn’t been a thought about the garden until the jalapeño plant, that just weeks ago

appeared lifeless from neglect, doubled in size and produced nine shiny dark green peppers.