Narrative poem

Photo by Alexander Sinn on Unsplash

2001 — Summer

I was three when we first met. He came to visit three family members of mine. His shadowy figure stood above my Lola as she mistakes me for my older sister.

The others have faded from memory, only Lola, preserved in a glass wall. Looking at her pictures not as a memory but as a relic, holding a baby girl I do not recognize. Playing with her treasures, knowing her life through legends and artifacts. The Elvis phone sings and dances “Bad to the bone.” The pink suitcase of jewelry and wigs. Looking at her treasures my sister asked our…


Photo by Mark Farías on Unsplash

So sweet, so light, so beautiful.
You sit passively, in the shadows of your counterpart.

While he takes the glory of your unseen work.
This world praises the Yang, The active, the aggressive, the strong.
And Dares to call you Lazy, passive, WEAK.

But they do not know the truth that I see,
The care and growth you give to the young.
The glimmer of hope that pulls me up from the trenches of Active Depression.
You are the one that reminds me.
It’sss…. Okay to…. Breathheee.

I see you in the running water, the thriving trees, the reborn.
Not wanting…


Photo by Brian McGowan on Unsplash

The City that never sleeps, silenced by an entity that can take the breath away, Yet I can scream to the sky.
26,064 cases.²
Mortuary refusing bodies, doctors choosing who deserves to die.

I don’t have to say Goodbye.
“Lucky” Cancer, my cousin faces
A tragedy so small, I don’t deserve to cry.

For death is only in my eye.
100,264 cases³
Plus one final sigh.

I can’t BREATHE. Done with the lie
Justice for all races
A system to defy.

The Other side removes the mask calling those Deaths a lie!
736,275 cases⁴
“Just like the flu.” “Save America.” Ensure they…

Photo by Owen Vangioni on Unsplash

She wakes me with a purr and hello
She wants pets, no hugs.
Or she bites back

Get up to feed her.
dashes down the stairs.
Stops at her bowl as if to say “Oh, didn’t see you there.”
Sits as a statue, a beauty, she knows.

At the bottom of the stairs. Her new kill.
A new friend
A game she plays at night.
Snatching and kicking with her back claws
Until he plays no more.

Iron my stomach and hide the evidence
It squishes in my hand as its soul passes through me. …

A better home for the next generation

Image public domain, modified from original.

They carved my stomach and left me hallow. As I played with my scar, a message appeared on my bracelet. Two tickets are available. Thanks for your donation. I opened the screen, the QR Codes popped up above my bracelet.

Two tickets to The Green New World!

I smiled. “It will be okay.” I thought. The building rumbled. The alarms went off, a notification popped up.

Nuclear storm approaching!

I fastened my mask as I walked to my son’s room. “Nathan?” I nudged him awake, placed the mask over his face. He fixed the straps as I carried him to…

Every step burns my bare feet. My family and I stood away from the crowd, but my stomach was constricted at the sight of people. I felt compressed, I did not see people bathing in the sun. I saw the trucks stuff with bodies outside the hospital. The death toll buzzing in my head. The echoes of those who say, “It isn’t real.” boil like lava in my stomach. I could not take it.

I turn and go to the water, the ringing dissolves as I got closer. The water, just cold enough to relieve the burning pit in my…

Rose Bryant

Lover of film, art and music

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