Tag: Laine Derr

Abandoned Anonymous

In a circle, they don’t smoke,

drink coffee, or speak of bravery.

All he left was debt

When I was born, she stopped looking back

He gave the smoke

She told me Wonder Woman was Santa Claus

I remember the dust, the wings

She was made of homemade eggnog and cheap whiskey

His anger was a butter knife

When she wasn’t right, I was wrong

I imagine him seated at a shopping mall

Her smile went with her

We were kept hungry like feral cats

I was born laughing, until I was slapped

In failure, he succeeded

Welcoming pain,

they wait, they listen.

Mad Again

Rather than Mars, she traveled

to Oregon, spent days writing

before rivers turned cobalt blue

or the sky seeped a fine, red mist.

In quietness, she sees herself,

a skylight sounding rhythms

of lightly falling rain, an inked

body mistaking death for depth.

NOVUS Literary and Arts Journal
Lebanon, TN