Catherine Zickgraf

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"Roll it up and pass it to me"

Poet

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Mood: Georgia, USA


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Catherine Zickgraf's Blog Entries

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— 2 Kudos

Two 30-Something, Married Women Have a Discussion in My Entryway

Category: Writing and Poetry

Give me a moment to decide whether I should laugh in your face since 32 is too old, you say,  to smoke a cigarette on my porch   with the 20-year-old boy living in your house across the street,  who pads around your kitchen  in his boxers every morning. Would my deployed husband  approve of that cigarette, you ask?   Your jealousy radiates through your teeth.  He’s a child to me, you can have him.... » Continue Reading

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— 2 Kudos

Operation Rescue

Category: Writing and Poetry

1991, I was 15.     And on the corner of 12 th  and Locust, Mrs. Gee gently told me  to stop making eye contact with drivers at the stop sign.   I was there with pamphlets for passers-by. I was there to share my story: my son was safe somewhere.     In the middle of Center City, Philly,  a tiny garden is protected by an iron gate.  It wasn’t my job to block it.  From the outskirts,  I watched the ... » Continue Reading

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And Then You'll Know

Category: Writing and Poetry

And tomorrow you’ll pick up, go on Not dragging your feet, not Doubting your purpose.   They say sadness and sickness go Hand in hand.  These Enemies tease— No matter.   You’ll understand then,  Or sense clearer the calm that Underlies joy from the                         Light of all Life.         Know how well you’re held. You are Not destined for destruction Or forgetting the Wealth of your sou... » Continue Reading

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Disown

Category: Writing and Poetry

I still bleed, cut from her tree.      I’m sick again , I say.  But he tears me out.  Her voice withheld adds years in bed since the cutting of bond begins.    The bones of my arms are broken. He blocks me from mom’s phone.  When stems start starving their leaves, dying is some kind of agony.  But somehow I survive.     Bombfire , January 2021 » Continue Reading

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— 2 Kudos

Park

Category: Writing and Poetry

We parked on a side street, seats down,  carpet rubbing skin off my spine,  shoulders, knees.   Get down, baby , a car rumbled by. Sweat like oil among wrapped up legs— we kissed.    » Continue Reading

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— 2 Kudos

Thirty-Five

Category: Writing and Poetry

I own my cellulite from three babies I brought into the world. You wanted a woman, not a little girl.   And still I win against  college chicks with big tits, the new pussy of a dead fish  gets you nothing in the end.    » Continue Reading

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The Pedricks ("christians" are a trip)

Category: Writing and Poetry

The night before I would have graduated law school, our best friends came over to tell us  they dislike me because I’m haughty.     Tom had been their best man.  The four of us would pray together, took turns making dinner. We sang and washed each other’s dishes.      But that night, we sat in our living room, and they listed a few years of examples.                 Why didn’t you tell us this bef... » Continue Reading

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In the Dilation of Eye

Category: Writing and Poetry

We chilled for three days.   But when you started staring  out my back windows into the woods, I knew I had to return you to the wild.    You have eyes that can mirror earth or sky,  that hide in your environment.  You are oak leaf and grass, aqua and azure.   Take me with you.  Let me swim in your iris  and the well of your pupil  toward horizons and the trees. Vita Brevis , August 2020 » Continue Reading

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Explain

Category: Writing and Poetry

E ven if I X eroxed my regret, P rayed a thousand L ullabies for A ll the ways I  let you down, N ever could I. . . » Continue Reading

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Resolution

Category: Writing and Poetry

You, sterile survivor, once hid my beauty in your power— but now I see you pretend to be whole.   And you, stone statue, with an eroded smile, can only pretend you’re content.  And you puddle like a tide pool on my island—   though once I sunk like a pebble into your depths.   I was blind then, hanging over death, reaching for your salvation— but you were a vine of thorns.    You scraped me, blood... » Continue Reading

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Left phone on a stage in Philly

Category: Writing and Poetry

Left phone on a stage in Philly, flew home from parents’ house to GA— 6 states away I think I should find the good  in the solitary the very smell of aloneness. Phoneless, I smoke a few bowls and fold some laundry.    I think I should find the good in my independence to make my own choices and silence the voice  that says to obey. . » Continue Reading

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— 5 Kudos

Love Language

Category: Writing and Poetry

They say she’s gone the way of Cain, wallows in intentional misery                 as transgressor, slave to the spirit  working in her, a daughter of disobedience.    But she insists she’s God’s child                                                                                                 since He punishes her like a parent, like when he twisted her up in bedding  and beat her almost namel... » Continue Reading

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