We are not so united anymore, split into different states of reality one where there is a clear atrocity, a symbol of our country one-third demolished,
By Kay Husnick3 months ago in Poets
I spent years begging a person I loved to just talk to me, work through issues together, tell me what was wrong, only to be met with anger, a slammed door, a drunken return,
By Kay Husnick4 months ago in Poets
If that lantern still glows green at the end of your dock, I don't see it anymore. The parties have stopped, and I have packed up the house,
This heart does not beat under floorboards, but it may still drive me mad. It pounds in the thick darkness, cursing me with three a.m. awakenings
"Anna," Hailey whispers across the room in the dark. "Did you hear that?" Anna groans and rolls over to face her roommate.
By Kay Husnick4 months ago in Fiction
A pen in hand and a new page leaves every option, but also none at all. The ever-growing ideas list is for the writer I can't be today, the one with motivation, energy, a clean tea kettle.
I had a dream about chipped linoleum flooring last night, the foot-long gap of an ugly, yellowed tile pattern peeled all the way off by the oven in my childhood home.
Once I wondered if there was more if I was doomed to that constant chore a love now wilted, long past bloomed. Until he wandered in
I listen to a lot of music. I go to about a dozen concerts or more each year, and I am constantly sharing new music recommendations with my friends.
By Kay Husnick4 months ago in Beat
The mixed emotions may be worse than grief. The worry for my father as he deals with loss, the freedom from her further harm,
She's gone, he tells me. The woman for years at death's door has succumbed, and despite my name following lies in her obituary,
Ask me how it feels to profit off a man's death. I'll show you five dollars and some change while his wife sells t-shirts, a sketched halo over his head.
