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Site title: Writing | Sad Girls Club
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I (un)knowingly eat them for lunch: multigrain crackers, goat cheese, side of fresh ripened figs– Their wings, the dark slits of their eyes. What does it mean to pretend to not know what you are knowingly doing? To ignore fact for fiction, to (un)know it was already the end the first time he kept going after you were (un)sure you told him to stop. To pretend he must not have hea...
The pharmacist said that these ones would make me feel wired. And as I exit, I find it nauseating. This beat-up sedan begs me to drive it off the road. I stare into every window in this college town. I disrespect every ounce of privacy these people think they have. I stick my med head out of my window to get a good whiff of the air. It smells rancid, almost fermented, and yet so...
Of all the labels they’ve assigned to me, my favorite by far is “difficult daughter”— because it comes with a built-in sisterhood. (Such a fierce and sacred circle to be held in.) We cruise through life with the droptop down wild hair riding waves in the wind. Our middle fingers like match sticks, one strike away from lighting up the night sky. We drink rum from the bottle and l...
See what you have inherited-I have placed it next to your ear as you slept. You wake up before me and so have your own time to examine it, give into awe, grow bored and discard it. By the time I come to see what you’ve made of it, it’s gone and you don’t know where, there are grains of sand on your pillow, nothing more. I thought the seaside would be perfect for us, the beach th...
It’s a choice Whether to wash something Or write something Or vacuum something Or to call up something From the caves of memory To cook something Or to marinate A childhood scene Too painful to remember Too poignant to forget. Karen Kimbro Johnson is a poet, novelist, visual artist and the author of the debut novel, “Climbing the Crystal Stairs.” She was accepted into the compe...
