ReubenDeFlash

sometimes poetry is like reaching into my brain and dishing up alphabet soup ladling out a dribbling mess with all the pieces to make something substantial trying to spell it all out but there are never enough f's for even feet or b, c, d's for more rhythm or z's for another stanza always one k short of a perfect story but I scoop them up anyway chase those letters around a bowl even if the outcomes amuses no one but me.

“Well hey there,” Leo said as he entered Cabin Nine to find Calypso, lying on his bed, knees tucked up with a book flat against them and a pencil between her teeth. In denim cut-offs and a white t-shirt, auburn hair pulled up into a messy ponytail, she looked like a goddess. Of course, she was a goddess, technically speaking, but Leo much preferred her like this – dressed down, pouring over some book. It was the sight of her like that - not in a flowing white dress, hair braided and adorned with tiny solar systems or whatever – when Leo completely forgot to breathe. She glanced at him and flashed him a mega-watt smile

Veda knocked on the door of Julian’s office out of courtesy but went in anyway. She needed to speak to Jac and she was fairly certain this was where she would find her. Sure enough, lying on one of the adjusted gurneys was the young woman, looking worse for wear with a bruised cheekbone and a bandage around her torso. She looked half asleep too, as if she’d only just come around. Her dark hair fell about her pale face, a light sheen on her forehead. “Is now a bad time to talk?” she asked, gesturing to Jac, but really speaking to the doctor who was standing beside the bed. “Do I look like I’m in the mood t