stephanieawood

Pills

Content Warning: This poem describes thoughts of self-harm and suicide. You can keep me on the pills. I’ve never thought of killing myself. I’ve never thought of killing myself,doctor,even though the cement below my balconyis squared like a chess boardand each open dumpsterwelcomes me like an inviting target. You can keep me on the pills;… Continue reading Pills

Duo Poem

Kiera McCabe Kiera McCabe is an transnational Chinese American adoptee who’s found her share of skeletons in the past five years. Her writings deal with grief and longing for family from before and after. She is currently a Social Sector Leadership and Diversity Graduate fellow at NYU. She can be found on Instagram @Kieraosity

A Party With No Music

“Do you think anyone else is going to bring potato soup?” Melissa asks, her black hair brushing my cheek as she whips it over her shoulder. I divert my gaze from the road for a moment, dramatically lowering my sunglasses to glance at Melissa in the passenger seat. I can smell her Bath and Body Works perfume… Continue reading A Party With No Music

Cheers for the Wicked

A cop slammed me into the back seat of a police car. A greasy bullet-proof Plexiglas sheet divided the vehicle in two; my cuffed hands laid on my lap. I leaned back against the sticky seats which reeked of body odor. Are people arrested for not wearing deodorant? My cousin Jen, the accomplice, crossed her arms over her… Continue reading Cheers for the Wicked

Off Season

When the tourist season on the island wrapped up, the beach town always closed down. Doors were barred. Attics were sealed tight. Steps were taken not just to keep hurricanes at bay; to keep unwanted visitors away. You could still come and visit in the off-season. The ferry from the mainland continued to call, twice… Continue reading Off Season

The Blind Dog

After school, at the end of the summer of 1989, Nathan Smith rode his bike to the pharmacy. Inside the shop it was cool and dim. The blinds had been drawn to keep out the sun, and the beams of light caught the dust that swirled and eddied in the air currents. Nathan liked the… Continue reading The Blind Dog

The Kodak Photo

I pulled you from a bubble envelopeamidst a collage of the unknown,sent all the way fromGreenwood Lake, NY countystamped 10/11/17value of contents in US currency0.0 Dollars. And there you were,from the waist upwards,in a four-inch faded Kodak square,looking ever so smartin a wine top and afinely tailored white jacket. I tried so hard to seeme… Continue reading The Kodak Photo

Preservation

In this madhousethe absent-minded spasms of middle fingersinto the faces of those paid to care lesscarelessly than the relatives who had delivered the dessicated-shadow humans at receptionwhile nodding at visiting times they would never keepmade no impact.Whoever they were beforethey had becomethe same no one –Nonentities. Jammed into precasket boxes.Preserved till shelf life expiry. Shiva… Continue reading Preservation

Smiths Creek Cowboys Sent from 2055

I remember Sandy Klek’s quartz encrustedzippo that felt like a pistol in my hand.Waving it in the skyI shot down birds, andplanes, and aluminumencrusted satellites. I remember the man with prodding eyesacross the blue, “Whatever,prolly doin’ the same” shrugged Sandy.Her feet stanced wide, hipsshifted intothe sun. I was poking andprodding. We lived like Cowboysfrom the… Continue reading Smiths Creek Cowboys Sent from 2055

Backyard Sputnik

In heaventhere’s patriotic cascadesof coagulated milkin metal cans launchingfrom the Backyard Sputnik. Words are reconfiguredinto songforms to showwhere doorshave turnedbookends. Pots and pans light the wayreflecting me ontomyself. Jackie Reed Jackie Reed is an avant-garde noise artist and poet based in Detroit, MI.