top of page

Three poems


and there at my feet

a dead bird newly fallen

poised on its belly, its beak


into the grass

as though this unblemished bird is on display

as though its streak of industrial yellow

across the end of its tail feathers

a warning

to me

to yield

to this sacrifice

for my need

to feel something poetic

this day

After Reading James Tyner Poems

I want to cry blue and white threaded words


in dirt fork to throat

red sparks reflecting in puddles in glass in plastic cracks

filled with black


from tendons from fingers


as shattered love


against porcelain–

trolleys drunks passing shouting

three stories


my window

Mark Larry

gets his hooks into my long-divorced, sixty-five-year-old friend–

first, through Facebook chat, then through WhatsApp–

my friend says when widowed-Mark Larry finishes his tour in Iraq

they plan to marry–

has she ever met him in person, heard his voice

had a video chat, does she have his picture, I ask–

all answers are No, except, for one photo–

Message it to me, I say

I upload the picture to Google Image Search, and instantly

find this same Mark Larry– by other names– with warnings–


I find YouTube videos showing Mark Larry’s place of business– not

a military base, rather a large stark room

filled with outdated desktop computers–

many Nigerian Mark Larrys– some of them women–

all laughing/flashing around a lot of cash

heart pounding, now, I know I have to warn my friend

know my friend believes she’s about to be a bride

know this news will break her heart

know this might cause anger, the loss of a friend

know, a real friend– has no choice


Alice Morris holds a MS in Counseling from Johns Hopkins, and she comes to writing with a background in art– published in The New York Art Review and a West Virginia textbook. Her poetry is published in The White Space-Selected Poems, Delaware Beach Life, in several editions of The Broadkill Review, Silver Birch Press, and Rat’s Ass Review. Her poems appear in the anthologies– Bared-Contemporary Poetry and Art on Bras and Breasts, Ice Cream Poems, The Way to my Heart-Food Based Love Poems, Rehoboth Reimagined, Destigmatized-Voices for Change, A Collection of Dance Poems, Amore-Love Poems, and most recently in Sanctuary– with an endorsement by Pulitzer Prize winner, Jonathan Freedman. In 2018 she won 5th of 6th place in a Clutch-themed fiction contest (Postcard Poems and Prose), and she received the 2018 Florence C. Coltman Award for Creative Writing. Her poetry is forthcoming in Backbone Mountain Review and Paterson Literary Review. She is a member of Coastal Writers, and The Rehoboth Beach Writer’s Guild.

Recent Posts

See All

Two poems by Kathleen Hellen

city of flaneuse, in crayolas with lines from the Rolling Stones Peach that used to be flesh-colored Indian Red (extinct)—now comes in colors head scarf in magenta, jogger barbie pinked comes dogwalke

"Stop Tagging Me in Photo Albums" by Vicki Liu

My first date’s hobby was going to therapy. The conversation was excellent then I never called him back. Amazing how I once ate a frozen grape and felt like I was tasting god. I’ll never go to a garde

"Ill-Conception"by Jacob Griffin Hall

Growing up, I never wanted to be anything. Someone walked with me, a babysitter maybe, and watched as I pocketed a handful of thorns. I never thought they’d make a memorable crown. No one died when I

bottom of page