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,
By Kay Husnick6 months ago in Poets
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 Husnick6 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 Husnick6 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,
By Kay Husnick7 months ago in Poets
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.
the colors under my boots and gray, gloomy skies will soon fade to brown
If I were her, I would never eat another blueberry again.
