Archive for the Prose Category
Annie Meyers Hill

I found a special place
a seam of quartz halfway
I’d love to know how
and when
might Google it one day.
It’s not a long hike
ten minutes, I’d say
but I always stop on the way
to catch my breath
and look back upon
how far I’ve climbed
with the world framed
at this height.
…can I hear the below cafe
above the tree line?
…and is anyone coming up
from behind?
Ahh, the approaching top –
it’s a pretty good spot with
a good view
a place people are drawn to
I pass them with a “G’day, how are you!?”


These streets;
the ink smudge where the motion repeats
dry, cracked heels, dirty feet
Point A to Point B
and somewhere in between:
thoughtless impulse.

I spit a cigarette
lit the wrong way in the dark
a fucking waste
the taste never forgotten.

There’s six in this group
I flat-out refuse
to get in the boot.

I’m a good girl
doing the bad, coming of age, acting out
vulgar and know-it-all
unladylike and loud.

I guess (unknowingly)
all part of the “figuring it out”
through trial and mistake
and the choices I make
as part of the shaping
taking corners without breaking –
I squeal in delight.

Locked Door

and the memory

She locked herself
in the bathroom
to open the door

I was summoned, the authority
exasperated with hands in the air
“talk to her, will you”

“Go away! I want to kill myself.”

I could do nothing
but bare witness
to the moment that later,
we pretended hadn’t occurred

the next day
normalcy returned

and I rubbed my temple
where it had burned.

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