Ways I Have Been Born
I. Pulled from the pistil of a black iris,
stem jerked from root and river,
feet folded backwards. My momma
took what the water gave her and I cried
cause I was sorry that was me.
II. Somewhere in Tennessee,
Loretta sang, all while looking me in the eye:
I ain't gonna wash no windows. I ain't
gonna scrub no floors.
I walked myself home,
stomping my boots along
to the tune of her song. I kicked
in the screen door. I told
everyone it kicked back.
III. Down in the dirt I watched
the trees gesture
with each limb, listened
to the animals let loose
in call and response and I suck
in, push out, and wail like them:
let me in.
"Psychopomp 1" - Hollie Chastain
Adrian Sanders is a poet, mail-slinger, and lover of the southern & surreal from Upton, KY. Her work has appeared in GASHER, Indiana Review Online, Jelly Bucket, and others. When she's not writing, you can find her gazing out of her second-story apartment window at the 3-in-1 tanning salon/movie rental/pizza joint across the street. Follow her on Twitter @adrianbreanna.