Shuttle Huddle

Fall semester is right around the corner and I thought I would share a poem about the shuttle bus that takes Umass Boston students from the train to the campus center and vice versa. Enjoy!

Shuttle Huddle 

Her small hand grips the gray rubber strap. 

Her hand tightens with every curve of the crowded bus. 

Her body sways around the backpacks, 

Conversation,

Words.

Why do we need to fill the air with words so a five 

Minute bus ride is less awkward? 

Her coat becomes tighter with every pointless conversation. 

With every intake of breath. 

The hum of the bus is drowning. 

Drowning out particular sentences and words. 

The voices become apart of the hum. 

Steady.

Her First Funeral

This is a poem about the first funeral I ever went to a funeral. R.I.P Bluey!

Her First Funeral 

She was running around on Beckler Ave 

Just another ordinary Saturday of her six-year-old life. 

She saw a lifeless body in the middle of the dead-end street. 

A dead bird… a blue jay 

She knew the bird had already passed 

But wanted to put the bird in a safe place. 

The funeral procession started at Beckler Ave and ended in her backyard. 

Gingerly holding the bird, she gazed upon the creature. 

"Bluey" she whispered. 

She worked silently and 

Dug a small grave and 

Built a makeshift cross. 

The bird was buried and with the final pat of the dirt she knew 

Bluey would forever remain in peace 

In the grave that she created 

On that ordinary Saturday.

Trigger Finger

This is a flash fiction piece about the first time I went to New Mexico and the first time I shot a gun. Enjoy!

Trigger Finger 

The desert sun beats down on the red sand. The ripples in the sand become more frequent and wider as the wind blows. The sound of a round of bullets being released from a chamber is the only noise. She feels as small as the grains of sand that surrounds her small knees. She is from a land of tall buildings, constant noises, and guns that are only used to kill people. But, she takes a deep breath, looks through the small scope of the light .22, focuses on the beer bottle, and pushes her cold pointer finger on the black thin trigger.