Stick Houses

A thin disguise

barrier in dream

glazed by mint leaf

Brittle pulse

cradles invasion

no changes that can be erased
before saving

Her sharp needles always bleed

A smell in pine barren

nature’s menthol

gift wrapped echelon

Caged in laughter

in shaft of sickled vine

hanging shards
in lost holiday glow

Her sharp needles always burn

A mean reprise

dream in barrier

anxiety shifts under embryo

from within the stick houses

her sharp needles warp

from memory

disguised by art
for stakes built in pain

don’t go to sleep

Freddy is coming for you

Christmas lights cracked

to feeling


to the third eye revealed.