Contributor: J. L. Smith

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She believes in God after the rains come,
when prayers are heard
after the silence
of slammed doors,
a car skidding out of the driveway,
when the higher power can hear her voice
over the heart thuds and clogged throat.

After then, kneeling is not necessary
for he knows she is his servant,
at his mercy,
as she pleads with him the words
she cannot use aloud.


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J.L. has published two collections of poetry: Medusa, The Lost Daughter and Weathered Fragments. Follow her on Twitter @jennifersmithak

Contributor: J. L. Smith

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We dreamt of far away lines of flat roads,
some hills to make it interesting,
some turns to give us some decisions,
paths to debate,
outcomes in which to blame.

But, together we took a detour
with neither of us consulting the GPS.
Blood in our veins
directed our course in off roads
made of vines of compromise.

Instead of our destination,
we got nowhere.
Now, we are lost
and we have only ourselves to blame.


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J.L. has published two collections of poetry: Medusa, The Lost Daughter and Weathered Fragments. Follow her on Twitter @jennifersmithak

Contributor: J. L. Smith

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We ascended the mountain
when the skies were blue,
cotton ball clouds,
no rain in sight.
Sun, warm hugs,
kisses, pet names in the dark.
You gazed into my pools,
all I saw was light.

Everyone was in a hurry to get to the top,
but I wanted to savor the beauty,
gneiss rocks under our feet.
One by one, tourists raced to the top,
a prize at stake
for whoever reached it first.
But, I didn’t care
for I was with you
and that was enough.

But, as we climbed the clouds darkened.
You wanted to climb faster,
but I held you back.
Your twisted smile betrayed you,
my first glimpse of it,
as you pulled me up.

As we reached the top,
the guide gave us the medallion:
cheap, yellow metal embossed
with the mountain’s name and date.
I looked at the clouds growing in the skies,
your tired eyes, as we started the descent,
medallion in hand:
a souvenir for me to remember:
the first time I saw you on the mountain.


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J.L. has published two collections of poetry: Medusa, The Lost Daughter and Weathered Fragments. Follow her on Twitter @jennifersmithak

Contributor: J. L. Smith

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Together, we walk over rock covered paths,
one foot at a time,
careful to land our feet
like our tongues,
along the uncharted path.

Sometimes my foot slips,
my ankle twists.
You used to catch me,
but now you allow me to stumble.

Your arms cup around me,
bringing me to you,
until you look around to see who is watching,
then you release me.

We leave the path exhausted,
one foot ambling after another,
in different directions.


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J.L. has published two collections of poetry: Medusa, The Lost Daughter and Weathered Fragments. Follow her on Twitter @jennifersmithak

Contributor: J. L. Smith

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We tasted the bubbles at dawn,
when the air was thick with August heat,
musty sweat.

Our tongues touched the soap,
but we shook off the cleanliness
for the taste of earth,
dew that dripped off our limbs,
tangled in embrace,
aftermath of raw desire.

Bubbles,
floating above our head high,
popping,
escaping to the sky above,
never to return again.


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J.L. has published two collections of poetry: Medusa, The Lost Daughter and Weathered Fragments. Follow her on Twitter @jennifersmithak