I pick up a stone and name it
Every time you’ve hurt me. I keep it
in my mouth, let it click
against my teeth. (More …)
Stacy Boe Miller is a mother, writing consultant, and third year MFA Creative Writing candidate at the University of Idaho. Her work can be found in Frontier Poetry, Driftwood Press, and Midwestern Gothic, as well as other journals.
I pick up a stone and name it
Every time you’ve hurt me. I keep it
in my mouth, let it click
against my teeth. (More …)
Muzzles gone white on old dogs church,
quadriceps screaming uphill
on gravel bike church, garbanzos dancing
in their dry rattles church, his finger finally
finding your clitoris church, alone
on the toilet birthing
a dead baby church, church of the first time
you kissed a girl, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
fiddled poorly in a park at
night church, tomatoes
ripe in a garden you planted
with your mother church, jukebox
that still takes quarters church,(More …)
My sister gives me a cigarette,
says I don’t even have to
inhale. I blow out a cloud of
another world, take it
back into my mouth. She doesn’t
know she’ll soon tear up
her knee, marry a man
it will be smart to fear,
doesn’t see herself calling
our father from a gas station
with only her purse and pajamas.(More …)