http://slow.writerscafe.org/Morteica The original writings of author Morteica en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776209395 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Ekphrastic poem http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Morteica/1017766/  1. Lust-lesschildren lie in the guttersOf the cities they had spent their lives to reachwhileViral diseases infect the radio wavesEvery other Thursday of the month.2.Bombardingancestor-less children with theUnspoken accusations whispered on the day when theM.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Morteica/1017687/ So much dependson the look in his eyes. His eyes when he says I’m sorry, but the canceris spreading like shadows across the cemeterymy mother’s faceis pleading. I’m a witch at trial; each stoneI’ve ins.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Morteica/1017663/ *** Inspired by the song "Big A*s Rock" from the play The Full Monty http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Morteica/1017660/ Again, she cultivated liquid notations untilthe dull daily dripof worn out adjectives had herpalms itchingfor a more creative quill.However, September sent her mind quillingaround in the space between her fingers and, again, that infernal itchinghad her stammering through sunsets.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Morteica/1017658/ hurry               Please  Iam so hungry            sohungry for the bones      Motherhasbeen cooking for hours mynose twitches ov.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Morteica/1017657/ It was darlinghow she stood on point to begthe moonDon’t forget me, Loverjust hold medown when I lose my footingand let the tide take me homeRhythmically, she stepped forward.She was porcelain and shadowswith salt in her nose.The moon stood silentand dipped her; hel.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Morteica/1017656/ Young un’,Over easy instead of hard boiled, you walkedUnder the sidewalk until you finally reached my beginning withVenom displacing itself in your footsteps andEvening already onyour lips. Lean in a bit now,Darling.Early tomorrow the moon will dance with the sun u.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Morteica/1017655/ Weare cold    boneswith the marrow licked cleanbythe sandpaper tongue of a tom cat     we crunchlikeleaves underfoot inautumn      we played in the woods        &nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Morteica/1017652/ sonnet http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Morteica/1017651/ shealways said orange with an abackthen        I loved herclippedbursts of speechlikeclipped wings      shesits beside me and I driftthendive until my ears popandsulfur fills my nose and thepressu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Morteica/1017490/