I drift west with the books that survived Marie Kondo.
::: Published in FEVER DREAM :::
Up into the Ocean
No one believes he has risen. Even the street-corner prophet
stops replacing his megaphone batteries.
::: Published in THE AVENUE :::
What to Do with Poems
I serve the ones who looked like me
using silver inlay plates that cannot be microwaved.
::: Published in FEVER DREAM :::
Deploy
My grandfather’s fingerprints trace the pathway from the makeshift bedroom to the bathroom.
::: Published in THE AVENUE :::
Exoskeletons and Wolfpacks
Like the forest, we’re held together by web lines seen only when weight is shifted back and forth.
::: Published in FEVER DREAM :::
Sorryoholics Anonymous
My name is daughter, wife, woman
and I am eroding into one reliance: sorry.
::: Published in THE AVENUE :::
#vanlife
It’s tiring:
calling everyplace home.
::: Published in FEVER DREAM :::
Origin Story of a Divorce
I forget I was there, only five at the time. I like the story better without me in it.
::: Published in GYROSCOPE REVIEW :::
Quieting for Connection
Every story follows one of seven archetypes; Voyage and Return is most popular, followed by Rebirth.
::: Published in THE WONDROUSLY REAL MAGAZINE :::
Home on Four Rubber Legs
Who owns the sentimentality I traded for cash.
::: Published in OPEN DOOR MAGAZINE :::
On Discovering a Grave
Underneath must be a collection of bones—
::: Published in THE SHORE :::
On Turning Thirty
Did I look away when you brushed your ambitions behind your ear?
::: Published in ARTHROPOD JOURNAL :::
Organ Donor
With my left hand I flick Morris code into my sternum.
::: Published in ARTHROPOD JOURNAL :::
Where to Next
I’d think it all perfect if not for a store-bought drone ripping it all open
::: Published in BLOOD MOON POETRY :::
A Woman Walking Alone
Twisting into every dead end, I’m deserving of my place here
::: Published in FOLIO :::
TO CARRY
It’s not for us to find them in the magnetic starfish,
::: Winner of the 2021 Icebreaker Prize, in SPARKED LIT MAG :::
VISITING BENNU
I’m not creative enough to think of who you would be at 43. Out of habit, I still try.
::: Published in RISING PHOENIX REVIEW :::
FROST BITE
Can you know how close a gun is by the bullet’s echo?
::: Published in RISING PHOENIX REVIEW :::
YOUR BREATH ON MY ARM
night swimming, we pass between days
::: Published in THE DILLYDOUN :::
LINDS SANDERS 