Literary Orphans

“the sting of the little things” & 1 other poem
by Natalie D-Napoleon


the sting of the little things

dishes, breakfast, sweeping, wiping, dishes, dress myself, brush my teeth, brush his teeth, toys


child caught in a net and dressed.

escape to the coffee shop for a latte

a moment

from my toddler-addled house

my three year old in tow

to walk away from


the sting of the little things


two men sit at a table, shirts, ties, “Structure blah blah blah Decrease blah blah blah Estimate

blah blah blah Margin blah blah blah”,


they look “Important” with a capital “I”,

with just the “I”.

they stand up

walk away from the table


leave their cups, saucers, plates and napkins crumpled up

and crumbs

scattered like bird feed,

(or could it be the Milky Way?)

on the table top


and it’s the sting of the little things


(are my son and i little birds, swooping at the table

for the crumbs left behind?)


i stare at them again as they

walk away, then stare at the

table, then back at them,

they never look back

or return my gaze.


They stride away Their steps

free and assured of Their


in the world, of Their place in the

galaxy even.


and it’s the sting of the little things


a deep, bone-crushing weariness envelops.

a sigh escapes.

i bus their table, put away the

two cups and saucers and napkins, coffee and burnt milk

linger at the lip of the cups,

grab a napkin

sweep the crumbs away into my hand –

for the fifth time today


and it’s the sting of the little things

that makes me feel like a bird feeding off crumbs from a table

when i should feel like a star in the Milky Way.

O Typekey Divider

The Grand Canyon at Midnight

i “YOOOOOoooooop” at the depths of Thee,

as deep as where a trickle of water begins

Divine slash, magnificent infinity, proud stone.


They “yeeeeaaah” at you, divine blaaaah, dust and rocks.

Flew to Vegas, took the copter ride:

“Grand Canyon, yeah I seen it.  Bloody big hole in the ground.”



I yop at Christian minglers, dinos-awe deniers, suburban hat-check lifers.


Helicopter sites, glass sky bridges, canyon hike,


i yop with an eon of hourglass sand beneath

feet in my


—————–on the ground


A check list of sites to loudspeaker about from sites,



And my loneliness,

———————a hole/slash/yawp which cannot be filled

not by the infinite stars i see above me,

lying on the roof of your dead-of-night-blue Mustang.



my yop bounces back from the stars,


was it the one small yop

————————-to take it over?

O Typekey Divider

Natalie D-Napoleon is a writer and singer-songwriter from Fremantle, Australia.  She has played in bands and as a solo artist for 20 years, and has placed a pen to paper for for even longer than that.  She loves garlic, words, and her husband and son.  Natalie currently resides in Santa Barbara, California where she is a writing tutor as well as studying an MA in Writing.


O Typekey Divider

–Art by Denis Olivier

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