Tag Archives: Nadia Barksdale

When the Stars in Your Eyes Have Died

There were moments when you almost slipped through the cracks. I swooped in, scooping you up, pressing you close to my chest. There was no reason the stars disappeared in the summer. Our skeletons haunted foaming shorelines, our toes crushed … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Counting your eggs before they crack

A widow may coo a wish but instead roots her lilac tongue in her jail bone jaw and sits. Her landlocked eyes shoot blanks. The lilac tongue is hung on the rack next to empty lung bags and knee caps; … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | 2 Comments

Cowlitz County, 1980

Here, my body became this slick exoskeleton filled with the strength of femurs, the blood of chrysanthemums, the hum of murmurs. Here, I was left instructions carved into petrified wood: Shout fire to thatch and brambles; pull it tight across … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | 1 Comment