I will not tiptoe in glass slippers when I was made to run with the Sword of Shan Yu.


September 23, 2018

Before I swallowed the pills

I matched a turquoise sweater

with pastel beads

because I wanted to die


But I got scared and called for

help when I started to lose my breath

Streetlights blurred

past a splintering headache that sawed
through my ribcage...

September 23, 2018

Sing, sing, I will sing

a song of a vineyard planted in fertile soil

yet it only yielded fruit that spoiled

when for ripe grapes I'd been waiting

Let me explain why your fruit has turned sour

the vineyard I have planted for goodness

yet my children yield o...

September 23, 2018

Layers of skin peeled away

by tentative trust—

I let you in

where you slurped my story

in one gulp

before walking away

without turning back

and I crawl across the earth

pasting a patchwork of lost skin


beneath, a spirit was beginning to emerge


September 23, 2018

There are things that make her forget

like staring blankly above and towards the wall

searching for a clock to tell time

--358 days of staring at the wall, one would think that at some point she would realize

that the digits stamping time are now ashes


September 23, 2018

He took his last breath in winter

after kissing her hand once more

she carefully chooses a tombstone engraved

Amado Esposo, Padre y Abuelo

that will be mounted in spring—

for now so naked, exposed

patches of dirt and snow melting

onto soggy drawings from gr...

September 11, 2018

When we visited the 9/11 Memorial, it was so quiet and somber you could have heard a pin drop. My fingers slid across the names engraved along the border where the Twin Towers once stood tall. Instead only the foundation remains and vast solemn water...

September 8, 2018

she’s facing the water

ankles crossed tenderly as her body

sets up camp like a tent

on Earth’s beach

where wisps of her white blonde hair

twist and tangle to the direction of the wind

toes shifting cool sand amongst the 

spaces between them as

sounds of wave...

September 5, 2018

Mom is next door drinking with her pal, Deb, while dad lies on the recliner in darkness listening to Gordon Lightfoot’s “Cold on the Shoulder.” I tiptoe behind him, open the freezer just a crack so the light doesn’t disrupt, snatch the carton of cook...

September 2, 2018

frail and incoherent you were fading fast

when a flash of clarity washed upon you

and you summoned us near

to say the farewells only you

and God

knew were impending 

threads of love intertwined in a tapestry

of holding you

your breath labored and unsteady


August 30, 2018

scarecrow skulls woven from straw scratch the surface of 

skin where stories sing softly humming

haunted melodies that peer from sockets

starving for deliverance. 

Please reload

Our Recent Posts

Please reload


Please reload


Please reload



mommy, author, opera singer, daycare director, person


©2018 by erinondersma. Proudly created with