Tonight The Moon (NaPoWriMo Day 30)


Tonight the moon
frosts my hands
and I cup them
to catch the
liquid beams.

I bring them to
my lips
for a taste
and I think
of you,

how you
make me feel –
a stomach full of
wished on
the moon

Copyright © 2015 Amaryllis Torres

AHHH! I can’t believe NaPoWriMo is over! I also can’t believe I actually did it…haha. My first NaPoWriMo taught me many things, which I’ll summarize in another post, but boy am I relieved to have made it all the way through. Kudos to those of you who do this every year!


Pried (NaPoWriMo Day 20)

And in the morning when
the sun pries my
eyelids open

for a peek inside
my memories drenched
in dream-riddled haze

you are this:

your girth – my
steady, solid ground;

your arms around me –
painted street signs that
point the way;

your cheek pressed
to my cheek –
the map that
guides me

Copyright © 2015 Amaryllis Torres

To My Comforter (NaPoWriMo Day 11)

My darling, my sweet, I
think of the days when
you were close as my
own skin wrapped around
me, like silk.

Those days slipped
into night and still we
were together. You never
objected to another episode
of Doctor Who, to another
snack of Flaming Hot Cheetos,
even when in my excitement
crumbs flew all over you.

In those days, you
were my warmth, my
place of safety that hid
me away from the
chaos of the world.

But the chaos has
caught up with me,
my dear.

It ripped me away
like the searing agony
of a band-aid being torn
from a hairy arm

and you became a
crumpled heap on
the ground,

abandoned. And I
only wish

that I could fold myself
into you once
again and

snuggle up in
a cocoon on
our bed.

But life has
other plans,

final exams.

And you, oh, you,
sweetest, warmest
that I

bought on sale at
target for

you are left
to suffer


Copyright © 2015 Amaryllis Torres

The Bridge-Man (NaPoWriMo Day 8)


The Bridge-Man

“Can you feel the
thunder rumble
at your feet

makes the
pebbles scatter
and the dirt
fly free?”

Bridge-Man asks

(Bridge-Man, Bridge-Man,

“Can you feel the
tingle of the
rain drenched earth

offer drink from
distant whirl-
pool surf?”

Bridge-Man asks
with lifted brow.

(Bridge-Man, Bridge-Man,
louder now)

“Can you hear the
booming rise of
shores ahead

drags and drowns
all of the strong
men dead?”

Bridge-Man asks,
close by my side.

(Bridge-Man, Bridge-Man’s
piercing cry)

“Can you see the
bridge with bloodied
rails of wood?

you safe passage
here where I
once stood.”

Bridge-Man breathes
against my ear.

(Bridge-Man, Bridge-Man’s
time is near)

“Can you see the
brilliance of
what’s beyond?

fight for
you, my dearest
heart; I won’t
be long.”

Bridge-Man sighs
with final breath.

(Bridge-Man, Bridge-Man,
still in death)


Copyright © 2015 by Amaryllis Torres

Run, Puppy, Run (NaPoWriMo Day 7)

Run, Puppy, Run

She beckons with a
sharpened nail
and smile sweet-sly

There’s fire in her
stomping heels;
sparks fly all night

Run, puppy, run
with your tail between
your legs

Mama’s calling you
calling you

She’s got a jeweled
collar with
your name engraved

And Louis-Vuitton
doggie bag
her daddy gave

Run, puppy, run
with your tail between
your legs

Mama’s calling you
calling you

Don’t bother biting –
her skin’s a
shell of
granite stone

No luck with hiding –
she’ll coax you
with your
favorite bone

Run, puppy, run
with your tail between
your legs

Mama’s calling you
calling you


Copyright © 2015 by Amaryllis Torres


[I was inspired to write this when I saw a guy following his girlfriend around like a sad puppy. Do you know any “puppies” in your life? How about “owners”? Also, this came out more as lyrics than anything else as I wrote so I  just went with it.]

Rain Lily Wild (NaPoWriMo Day 6)

Rain Lily Wild

My lover is the Goodest-Good.

lays at my feet a field of
swaying Rain

where others would pluck
a single stem from the
roots and leave a clumping mess
of dirt behind.

When days go by the lily
fades to shrinking brown,
shoulders hunched with sadness
at the memory of

its family – far away;
its home – soft, endless earth;
its friends – the sun and sky and rain.

Its last days are subject to
mere counterfeit –

the weak dribble-wet through a
metal spout;

sunlight filtered through a
barrier of glass

(through which wind cannot embrace
and sound is muted to a low,
sad hum).

Not so with my lover.

He is wild as the
aching heart of the
Rain Lily.

He drinks the sun
and hugs the earth
and whispers sweetly to
each drop
that falls from

and in our field of lilies
our roots are



Copyright © 2015 by Amaryllis Torres