Skeleton Dance

I am ready to spill my skeletons,
open the door to the proverbial closet
and watch them perform an irreverent
skitter-dance across our bedroom carpet.
They will two-step in the moonlight
shining in jagged strips through the
wire screen against our window pane.
They will sing a false swan song
with lipless mouths and bones that
rattle as change in your pockets.
They will twist up on one another,
like a bow around a present,
and I’m giving you this gift,
because it is no longer possible
to keep them in my head.
I am dragging them out from under
the piles of old neglected things
that hinder our ability to speak freely
and humiliate what is left of our love.
I am giving you faceless truths
and praying that the melody of our past
is enough to string us back together.

©Laura A. Lord, 2016

Thank you to MindLoveMisery’sMenagerie and The Sunday Whirl for their wordle prompts.

The Telling

Last, but not least…Here is the reader’s choice from my latest book, The Telling.


I like a dominant man in my life. I like someone who is in control. I like to think I’m in control, pretend it, brag about it, lie for it. I like that I know, that he knows, that I know I’m not really in control.

We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to.

The perfect line. The perfect pitch. He’s already made the decision, but poses it in such a way that I can make-believe it is mine. I like to take what doesn’t belong to me.

He’s a steamroller in my life and I like to be laid out flat. I like his hands on my chest, pushing me down whenever my back turns to the span of a bridge. His hands on my thighs, forcing me flat, flat, flat. Yes. Yes, I like that.

He makes me crow like a rooster and I want the world to know I’ve seen the sunlight. It’s like daybreak bursting to life inside me and for a split second I’m lit up brighter than a Christmas tree in Times Square. My body becomes a beacon, a calling card, a flash bang grenade and it draws more, more, more. I want a sunrise that keeps coming, up and down like a yo-yo on fire.

I like when everyone can hear my sunrise, my daybreak, my rooster call.

I’m vocal about it.

I’m in charge of it, or so I pretend.

Want it now? Click the picture to go to Amazon! AVAILABLE ON KINDLE!

Want it now? Click the picture to go to Amazon! AVAILABLE ON KINDLE!

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Ways My Children Believe the Baby Will Be Born



1.   The doctors are going to cut me open. (Except the son keeps giving the motions of cutting longways instead of horizontally. o.0)

2.   My belly will get so big it explodes and the baby flies out.

And my personal favorite…(for imaginative purposes only)

3.   The doctors are going to push on my belly so the baby comes up and out of my mouth.

Considering the terrifying ideas my children have cooked up in their heads, I almost think telling them the truth wouldn’t be quite as dramatic and frightening as I thought.

Goodnight Baby

So, yesterday was a trip to the doctor and then the decision that it was okay to open our mouths. And we did:Image

No, Jason Momoa did not get me pregnant…but my husband, Momoa’s look-a-like, did.

Early morning, and I’m going to my friend’s house to drop some toy off my son pick-pocketed last time we were there, and her little four year old daughter greets me at the door with a gigantic hug. She really is the cutest little thing. So, while her mom is running around getting ready, I whisper to this tiny little person, “I’ve got a secret…I’m going to have a baby.”

-Sudden gasp and bright smile.- “You gonna have a baby? Oh yay!”

She got so excited, she immediately had me sit down so she could touch on my belly.

I think, Good. She grasps the concept. My kids are older. They should be even more excited.

Me:   Guys, Mama is going to have a baby.

Monsters:   -Blanks stares.-

Me:   Do you understand? In the Spring, you guys will have a new baby sister or brother.

Girl Monster:   Well, I think it will be a boy or a girl.

Boy Monster:   -Starts wrestling with the Husband.-

Me:   Hello?! Baby?!

Girl Monster:   Can I have a snack?

Boy Monster:   Yeah! Snack!

Here are the children who thought I was going to come home from my honeymoon with a baby in my arms, simply because we told them we weren’t having any babies until after we were married. No excitement. Nothing. They did throw on super happy faces for the potato chips I let them have.

I go to tuck them in bed, later that evening, and my son kisses me. He then grabs my shirt, pulls it up, and says,

“Goodnight, baby.”

We’re going to be just fine.


When leaving the grocery store I was stopped by one of the teenage boys who works there, you know, vacuuming the floors and gathering the carts up from outside.

Boy: You are really pretty. What school do you go to? I never see you at  ____________ High.

So I did what any woman would do:

Me: -Barely controlled laughter- Thank you…I’m homeschooled.

I was NOT telling him I’m getting ready to go to my ten year reunion…

From the same high school he mentioned.

Not doing it.


NOT happening.