Heavy is the Head that Wears the Crown

Heavy is the head that wears the crown Out front sittin’ pretty laden with responsibility just because I can be The one who’s able to respond to get shit done

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My Prey Is Love

I know next to nothing about hunting, but I know a lot about needlepoint. Many of the hunters I know have trophies on their walls—preserved, marble-eyed animals. I suppose they are a reminder of the many hours spent planning, preparing, hiking, stalking, aiming, shooting, and gutting, then taking the unstuffed body to a taxidermist to…

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What Will You Make This New Year?

It’s a cozy, quiet Sunday morning. I type near the Christmas tree, a sleeping pup curled at my feet and a YouTube fire flickering noiselessly on my TV because my apartment doesn’t have a fireplace. Outside, the world glistens, covered in its first true blanket of snow. These Midwest mornings, the ones that stretch from…

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I Am From

I am from my own imagination From ground scorched with misdirected rage I am from forced silence From underwater screams stuck burning my throat I am from her dark hallow From a lifetime of aching belly I am from both body and mind filled with too many scoops of Mama I am from familial pain…

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Personified

She speaks with tempered wit and out drips tender care from lips that brim with wonder and awe. She walks in patience like the dawn, neither fast nor slow. A rising glow that with time shows all things Both true and clear. She beholds what no one knows, A thought too bold to keep untold,…

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For the Love of It

The podcast mic still shines from the back corner of the closet, wrapped up in chords and tucked away near storage boxes. I purchased it last year with some award money I received for my graduate thesis. I had been determined to put the money towards something that pushed me to keep creating. The only problem–and…

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A Story of Love Lost and Found

A long time ago, I read. I read books I paid for that I wouldn’t need to review, to interview the author, or to underline because I was studying the plot structure. A long time ago, I wrote. I journaled, sent newsletters, started blogs (five and counting), and submitted articles. A long time ago, I…

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The Beginning of the End

I am sitting in my car outside a speak-easy bar in downtown Fort Worth. I am mesmerized by the sound of rain falling methodically on my windshield. Because I am twenty minutes early and nervous, I pull out my poem and scan the words, trying to memorize any phrases I have forgotten. As a young woman…

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