gutter-ball grimace. grinding of teeth. blinks Morse code. embattled elbows. undisciplined arms. scared not to swing. too many strikes, but still she stands, hands around the bat like its neck is her neck is your neck is better than a noose.
Killer of sentiment, personal life the opposite of poetry. My thesis statement just a plea, get away from me. Marrow a poor substitute for mortar. I throw bricks through windows for valentines. I reply to intimacy with IOUs left in empty lots. Solitary confinement in place of study abroad, pictures of bruises passed off as sky. I make souvenirs out of dead skin, plan on saying they’re store bought. Re-entry on pause while I watch the exchange rates. Anonymity my personal Statue of Liberty, practice accents to keep myself company, huddled masses hiding in my head. Simon says, it’s not sleeping alone if you don’t have a bed.
Samantha Madway is working on a collection of interlinked poems and flash fiction. She loves her dogs, Charlie, Parker, and Davey, more than anything else in the universe. Though technophobic, she attempts to be brave by having an Instagram @sometimesnight. If the profile were a plant, it would’ve died long ago. Her writing has appeared in Laurel Review, Wild Roof, Sunspot Lit, Linden Ave, High Shelf, Sky Island Journal, Aurora, mutiny!, Clementine Unbound, SLAB, and elsewhere.