Deosil is brought to you by Mark W. Law & Miss Frieda
August 31, 2026
Poetry

The Language of Loneliness

Nose downsniffing every cornernook and crannyalong the fencewhile otherseye deepin Androidor iPhoneignore the signsyelled in silencea stick offeredlet’s playit saysthen zoomieswhen eyes liftand smileok, let’s play! ml’25 (early morning in the backyard with Frieda – coffee and the news can wait)

Poetry

Walls

When first you breakshards of you like shrapnelembedded in the stuccoyou once called ‘home’,tiny men in bibbed overallsbuild walls brick by brickwet mortar flyingto protect you while you heal,a facade brightly paintedin rainbow huesto hide the wounded heartinside. ml’25 (original image by Elexa on Pixabay)

Poetry

176

It sounds so clinical,176 – like a tokenor ticket clutchedwaitingfor your starched shirtsor bakery orderbut to his motherthere was a namesung deep like a lullabybeyond our earsor comprehension,whispered softlyby his partneror joyfullyby his children,but to us he was a numbera beautiful black and white numbersleek amongst the waves he called