Poetry Month: Day Eighteen

A little something in case you can’t sleep.

It became a hungry woman with hissing hair and scales for scalp.
Does it need medication? Do you miss it entirely,
like a cut-down breast misses her blood engine?

—from ‘Delicate, Fingerless’ by Rachel McKibbens

And if you think you’ll be up for a while, she puts some pretty sensational writing prompts up on her blog.

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  1. Bless Me, Reader, for I Have Sinned | Elizabeth O'Connell-Thompson

    […] passing judgment on a new acquaintance that has just disclosed their fondness for Sylvia Plath or Rachel McKibbens. For not only do these writers speak of and allude to their own lives too openly and too often, […]

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