Katey Linskey
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i know where i am by how the moon sits. the least i could do is lock the gate so i won't worry about ants on fire. i thought entitlement beckoned me up the stairs. can a house smell like sex when you haven't had guests? will it still be called a map if no one traces the path? the heartache sprawls on the patio with other old possessions. the stars outside my window won't shoot on command. |
Katey Linskey is a writer with poetry out in Rise Up Review and The West Review. She draws from her experiences growing up in Boston and later living in India and Guatemala. She spent six years working in global health and currently works as a ghostwriter.