Writer in San Francisco, CA
In the trees, the eyes of the night gaze,
creatures revel in the dirt and moss,
hands guiding the clouds across the sky
exposing silvers stars that glitter
in the black night. A hollow hoot of an owl
the crack of a broken twig, a silence that
envelopes the dreams of the dreamer in
the forest at night.
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In the midnight hours,
I am alive like no other.
Eyes bright and ignited
with fire and wonder,
I roam the streets
under the pale moon
instilled with desire
to create and to destroy.
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-Alina
Cup, grey ceramic
cut, the edge of the lip
on the rim. Blood
begins to surface
droplets mix
with coffee and cream.
Thank you for reading my work!
-Alina
Boiled eggs
roll on the counter
shell discarded like scales
of a fish pulled back
and pink flesh quartered.
Belly sliced open
and white skin eaten,
slips and slides
in the mouth,
the yellow yolk
cooked into
a chalky paste
that sticks to lips
and teeth.
Thank you for reading my work!
-Alina
Rain hits the window
a small drumming of fingers
tap, tap, tap, tap
taptaptaptaptap
listening to the wind whisper
and chide the trees, the leaves
in a chorus yelling in protest.
Thank you for reading my work!
-Alina