You came to life, slowly

exhuming yourself from
the pure haunt of your
disease

You were a Raggedy Ann doll
blood red spots on your smile
your own voodoo doll
an abandoned Cabbage Patch Kid
left in the field, abducted by
alien foes, not friends

You were hijacked
a terrorist of your
own being

Your own vampire, a devil
she-beast

But now you are
a dogwood flower
pressed into an old
book kept in the drawer,
one taken out
sometimes and
admired
occasionally

A North Star
quiet and direct

You are
an arrowhead,
pen of a sword,
rising out of
red clay

dripping

You are
Joan of Arc
Esther, Jezebel

Ready for revolution
absolution

but today

You just are.

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About the Author

Brianne Grothe is a recent graduate from Oklahoma State University where she earned a B.A. in English. Her poetry has been published by her university’s undergraduate literary journal Frontier Mosaic, the national undergraduate journal The Allegheny Review, and Royal Rose Magazine. Besides writing poetry, her passions include destigmatizing mental illness, making connections between sexuality and spirituality, trying to reconcile her desire to be a domestic goddess with her lipstick feminist agenda, and sharing cat memes on Facebook.

Brianne Grothe
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