Some moments, I will keep to myself, to us private, hidden, protected, perfect. Others, I will never find the right words to share
By Kay Husnick7 months ago in Poets
Suddenly, the boxes I put in storage a while ago feel less like a long-lost to-do list. They and the empty totes and the set-aside bubble wrap are a step toward the future,
By Kay Husnick8 months ago in Poets
I should be there with you now, not a week from now, not in two or seven months. We plan to look at paint colors, talk about rearranging, making your house our home,
Most days, I'm good. Healed. Safe. Fine, but the memories I've buried aren't that deep, not enough that scrolling to a personal PSA can't dig them up
These burdens weigh me down, steal the air as it bubbles out of my lungs, but I gather them up, from person to person to person
By Kay Husnick9 months ago in Poets
The dishes are piling up again overflowing from the sink across the counter, the stovetop, the consequences of my own inaction,
Wash and cut a lime, split it even into halves Is there a version of me on another timeline wondering what I am doing now?
By Kay Husnick10 months ago in Poets
I didn't fall in love; I waded into it, saw it ahead of me and dipped my toes into the glimmering blue, tested the waters, found them fine, and called for you to join me.
By Kay Husnickabout a year ago in Poets
I don't want to live in 1984, where the facts aren't treated as facts anymore. I don't want the nationalism and isolation,
Some days are heavy reminders of mistakes made a call to the bank and the credit bureaus, a form submitted to the FCPB, a few hours sorting through stored items kept too long,
You make the romantic in me feel hopeful. The heartsick long-distance lover swoons, and the holiday's date grows insignificant;
I have dated so many men who looked at me like I placed the stars in the sky, who listened to my voice like their favorite song,
