by Carol Casey The path is trodden, dusty, level.You know it will take youwhere many have gone. Step off—tangles of brambles,sometimes with blackberries,more often with little clawsthat catch on clothes and skin;and tortuous tree roots—inconvenient, sacred data unearthed—subterranean snakelets somehowsifted into snarls for feet to catch.There are stems that twine…
by Jennifer Schallehn I am 22 and I have just given birth to my first child,a daughter. I run across a photo in a drawer.In it, I am 14. I have just fished the runof a musical, which I have danced in and choreographed.My arms are around two of my…
by Jennifer Schallehn (This poem contains domestic abuse.) Your homeboy asked what you liked best about me,and you answered,“She does what I say do.”I’ve got news for you.I did what every boy said to do.I was born to it,laid out for my first baby picturesa welcome mat in rosebuds and…