obtained a Bachelor of Arts in English from Lewis University. Her first chapbook, Schadenfreude, was published by dancing girl press in 2018. She currently edits for Witch Craft Magazine and resides in Chicago. She enjoys succulents, horror films, and unevenly bleaching her hair.
A poem about you would begin with a tiger, a cobra,
a comma in the middle of a sentence.
Your name, which is invisible,
falls over your head like a hood—
smell the centuries; you are archaic
& I am archival, you live in my ribs,
you conspire against my pleasure.
You suck the sun of a day that started as a stutter of sun,
then rain, I listen to rain, tangled with diamond bones—
could all that liquid be the source of fall?
Source: Lampblack & Ash by Simone Muench