Food Stamps and Underwear
A draft by Katherine Gotthardt
When asked about holes in my underwear, why it’s taking up space in my drawer, I ask instead
if pink isn’t my color.
Writing Prompts
More Haiku for National Poetry Month 2023
As we wrap up the month, here are some more small offerings.
Quincy Market (a draft)
Dankness of the parking garage.
First level always, because
my father liked to be early.
Speaking to Specters
by Katherine Gotthardt Through your ageless eyes, I understand your replies to what you most fear: trembling from the tip of the fuse to the cannon’s opening, the rip in the air of civil war, tear in the veil that lies: ‘there is but one truth.’ You can never know for sure where the dying …
Retreat
Love sometimes requires retreating,
backing up,
reversing the pace
that brought us into spaces
where nothing was ever comfortable,
no memory or seat we could share,
no reserve preserved for those worst hours,
