I'd rather have blood in the bathtub and a broken dog
than a cute little boy by a busted little man
a loaded little man
a lying little man
my true love's best friend
with lips like the prettiest moths on my back door.

words words words
you have no idea how
much i love you
lying little man
you have no idea how
hard
i tried to love you.
he is better than you
and you are his
best proof.

Dear Edy,

It is with great enthusiasm that I write to tell you that your Informal Essay, "Mudline," has been awarded first place (tie) and your poem, "Rescue," has been awarded second place for UM's Southern Literary Festival Writing Contest. I think that you should feel very proud of your accomplishment , as Ann Fisher-Wirth was the judge for the poetry contest. She was quite taken with your poem. Congratulations!

You will be presented with a certificate of award and you are cordially invited to attend the Southern Literary Festival in at Blue Mountain College on April 7-9. Your expenses will be paid by the UM English Department and you will receive excused absences from all classes should you decide to attend. I highly encourage you to attend the festival with us this year where you will have the opportunity to participate in creative writing workshops with established authors, and to attend panels, open mics and readings. The festival is also a great way to meet other undergraduate creative writers from all across the South, and make connections with editors and publishers. You can take a glimpse at a general overview of The Southern Literary Festival on Facebook at the following link:

http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=134767873229&ref=ts.

With your permission, both your essay and your poem will now be entered into the regional creative writing competition and will be judged by officials at the Southern Literary Festival. I will be in contact with you regarding the details of the upcoming SLF in April.

Again, I offer my hearty congratulations on your award. I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Sincerely,

Beth

When you lose your mother, dog barks aren't as loud and the death of your favorite grandfather isn't as sad.
I think most of us lie in wait for that awful time when our mothers die.
Some of us see it. Some of us don't. Some of us get their deaths when they are old, when they have been withering for years, when we know winter will be the end.
And some of us get them at the beginning of May, only days after their youngest son's 18th birthday.
And when the dogs bark and when the grandfather dies, all you can think (if you have lost her) is, "I have lost her and I am somehow still walking."
Each of my limbs felt as though they'd rot at the joint today. My arms and legs wanted to be unsewn. The leaves wanted to fall out, air out.

I am going to drive to the Hopis. They know something I don't know.
Before I get better, I will learn to forget time and live today with my dead mother baking cookies in our kitchen in Virginia, my grandfather's smoke and rock on the Mississippi front porch we've already lost.

Edy.