7.05 / May 2012

Two Poems

The Curse

listen to this poem

I pray this thorn pushes through me
into you. I ask poison to press
upon your palms and knees. I hope for
your permanent brown. Let the universe
feed you stones until your garden grows
sick with weeds.


The Cursed

listen to this poem

I awoke with snow in my mouth, diamond
snakeskin between my legs. A small sooty
shadow fell on my cheek I tried to wipe it
but bone-hands held it over my head. I
felt as small as a cherry pit, my insides turning
like a rotten melon. I searched the skies for
a sign but my senses grew gray-blue like the
silver of a newborn kitten’s eyeball; glass-veined
and useless. I listened for the voice of my lover,
my mother, but all I heard were worms eating
their way through the crust of this dirty earth.


Suzanne Richardson was born and raised in Durham, North Carolina, where she received an alternative education at Carolina Friends School K-12. She then graduated from Bard College in 2005 with a degree in English and Creative Writing. Suzanne currently lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where she is an MFA candidate at the University of New Mexico teaching English and creative writing. Suzanne has been editor-in-chief of Blue Mesa Review since 2010. Her nonfiction has appeared in New Ohio Review, issue 11. Her poetry has appeared in Blood Orange Review, and The Smoking Poet.
7.05 / May 2012

MORE FROM THIS ISSUE