[Poem-a-Week] Domestic Violence Revenge Ghost by Syd Shaw

I blamed myself, and booze, and sleep
paralysis for all I could not carry.

In the dream I find a wedding dress
buried in the woods. I take it 
home to our red apartment,
pose for a photo with bright flash.
You are there, or my father, or someone
and I apologize until the floor swallows me.

In the basement I look at wedding photos
and draw tally marks on the walls. Again
and again the same album:
A woman with no mouth
A room full of red candles.
The corpse of a fox ,
children’s hair clips matted into its fur. 

When I wake, my blood is dry on the sheets.
I clean in cold water silence.

---

Syd Shaw writes about love, witchcraft, and body horror. She is Assistant Poetry Editor and Workshop Coordinator at Passengers Journal. Syd has a degree in creative writing from Northwestern University. Her previous publications include The Winnow, Cathexis Northwest, Ember Chasm, Sad Girls Club, Coffin Bell Journal, Waxing & Waning, and  Eclectica Magazine, among others. Her work can be found at sydshaw.carrd.co or on Twitter @sidlantro

---

Upcoming Events

---

---

---