Tag Archives: fantasy

A Winter Morning


it started small
an idea
a project
a match

soon the flames could not be contained

from kindling to logs
it roared and grew

each fresh sheaf of paper
crumpled and pitched
at its burning heart
extended its margins
until the raging orange
began to lick beyond the stone box and metal door
to the mantel wood
than mocha walls and freshly painted ceiling

still she stood
fists full of reports
and assessments
neatly checked boxes and gray graphs
used to justify investment
and calculate worth

as the smoke alarms blared
in trilling sequence
she took a deep breath of thick air
coughed and smiled
as the words by her feet ignited

her work
finally complete


NaPoWriMo Day 5


One Day



The laundry sat unwashed

Bills unpaid
Phone calls not returned
Grass uncut
Appointments missed
Beds unmade
Groceries not bought
Door unpainted
Letters not mailed
Floors unswept
Garden not weeded
Taxes not filed
Gym not visited
Checks not deposited
Tub unscrubbed
Clothes not put away
Dog not walked

Taking a day off from adulthood
She served leftover cake for breakfast
And yet, everyone survived


Julie Ayers
NaPoWriMo Day 15




Clock face glowing
3:37 am
she shifts from side
to back
and imagines the ceiling cracks
to be roads
follows one over and out
until all she can see are hills
rolling green
lush a taste
scent of motion
she dreams awake
and loosens time
grateful for a form
of dimness
that accommodates
her finest trimming

April 2015
Julie Ayers
NaPoWriMo Day 22


earliest wednesday



chasing her down the steps
after midnight
she left no shoe
but a trail of crumbs
tongue full of red velvet
i haven’t slept for a century
mattresses piled on a pea
tossing like whitecaps
sirens calling intervals
howling “fix me” from a canyon
there’s a stomach portal
like the cows had in vet school
the Oz behind the curtain
better to not know
where cupcakes come to rest
cursing is encouraged
throw the fucking vase through the window
just leave the razor blades wrapped

April 2015
Julie Ayers
NaPoWriMo Day 15





Her brown shoulders bare
but for the merest of white silken straps
she glides
into the glass wrapped
dining room
in her size 0
slips into the ocher chair
pulled back for her
by the disembodied
dark hair dusted hand

Padma then eats

Plate after plate is tendered
she sups on the finest morsels
fashioned by eleven astounding chefs

Her perfection
by that one long scar
on her arm
which allows us
to almost believe
she is not so dissimilar to us
that the burger we clutch
could yet be transmuted
to divine truffle risotto
that we
can eat more than our fill
brush the crumbs from our laps

and rise
tall and willowy
into the camera
disgorging judgment

February 2014
Julie Ayers

Mind Craft


Slouch shouldered
dirty-blonde hair shading his eyes
he peers at the screen
bites his lip as he builds
a house of pixels
proudly showing me
the water feature
he’s added with cane
a tree that leans
He forms Minecraft shelves
but adds no books
disliking to read from paper
so why bother with virtual tomes
His Skyped-in friends
making plans to visit
A digital party brewing

In weed and wild flower fields
I collected littered cans
scooped up piles of leaves
using my sweatshirt
as carryall
Braids adorned with twigs
I dragged broken branches
weaving them tight
through the copse
constructing palaces
kitchen to turrets
curling up on moss
of the library floor
with stacks of books
sky for skylight

I saw it
same as him
from room to room
feasts held
enemies vanquished
gilt walls
holding us
in equal fancy

December 2013
Julie Ayers




There dances the oak tree by the river
the evergreen I scaled like a staircase
the weeping willow by the pond
the giant pine outside of our bedroom window
the apple tree that held my childish weight
as I swung upside down
dangling from my knees
the stump from which the boys
performed flips
as I caught my breath
in fear
and delight

You laugh
when I talk of my dreams
living among the branches
balanced above the grass
tucked in leaves
that gently brush my shoulders
as I walk lightly across the bark
my bare feet sure
birds’ nests holding my treasures
clothing draped
off of twigs

In death
let me join with the green
pour what is left of me
into dark, rich soil
merging with a root system
holding things up
holding things steady

April 11, 2013
Julie Ayers
NaPoWriMo #11