« Sandy Hiss » Potpourri for Insects Do you think the roses heard me when I said, "I'm sorry but I don't smell a thing" this after I picked their petals apart one by one slowly methodically tearing from the outside too many love-me-nots fingers forcing their way in Towards the beginning where creation began an idle seed fed by curious water's one night stand with dirt to now where it ends Nonchalantly buried with pencil flakes watermelon skins purple irises coffee grounds in a chrome tomb Dried up rearranged into a potpourri for insects Hanging on Poles of Insecurity I ride the carousel that's all I do watching the world go round and round hanging on poles of insecurity waving little banners of stripes and yellow daisies I don't belong here anymore People pass by, their eyes wide gawking as I sit motionless atop a grey, Arabian horse my leather saddle worn from the weight of my fears spurs piercing through a facade of plaster joy Wrapping my arms tightly around his neck I lay my head down on his comfortable mane This is not my home sweet home I am a voyeur the adrenaline galloping through my veins watching life spin around me its kaleidoscope hues a trot away My head dizzy with regret I close my lazy eyes imagining I am standing on solid ground the earth holding me up giving me strength to stand on my own two feet Now if I can just let go of the reins Sandy Hiss' poetry and fiction have appeared in Cabaret New Angeles, Autographs Magazine, Eskimopie.net, Scorched Earth Publications (Editor's Choice Feb/Mar issue), Autumn Leaves, The Cat's Meow, & True Poet Magazine. Her work will also be featured in upcoming issues of The Green Silk Journal and Underground Window. Sandy resides in Wyoming with her two children and husband. She hopes to publish a chapbook in the near future.