Anatomy of Grief By Katie Pukash

Anatomy of Grief

I pay to shoot guns in an alleyway.
Remember his tortured smile and magazine wrists.
I try to grow thyme, live with thirty one people and call myself stable.
I surround myself with cats and houseplants
and forget his last name.
I clip my nails too short and bleed into the sink.
I go to our pizza place and forget how much not crying hurts.
I taste your coke,
lick at your obituary.
I am lockdown, intoxicated tongue.
I demo a kitchen, a bathroom,
a heart.
Chip my knuckle.
Ruin my only mouth.

By Katie Pukash


Katie Pukash is a poet based in Boise, Idaho. She has competed at two National Poetry Slams and has been previously published in Yay! LA, Breadcrumbs, and The Bitchin’ Kitsch, among others.

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