Before I  let you to see this poem, I feel some background on it is in order.

My friend and I both submitted a poem to southbound press in 1996. I worked for maybe a few minutes on mine (and it shows…trust me) and look at that…there I am on page 38 of the anthology. She isn’t in the book at all.

I remember this was also my first reading as well. I was scared and cold. I stumbled over my words. the room was packed and I felt so out of place. How funny this poem and the memory of my first reading surfaces as I am about to go to my second reading of my own original piece?

Life is funny that way.

Here it is in all its horrific glory.

This is the poem I sent off to southbound press in 1996. I thought I was the next Sylvia Plath. I was wrong…dead wrong.

The Poem From 1996

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