A woman should not put her high heel
through the windshield of her car on a date night with her husband. She shouldn’t toss all the love tokens from their dresser, watch perfume bottles shatter and pour on their wood floor. A woman should not flick her iPad through a living room into a bookcase of any kind. She should not get into a black car (windshield still busted), and drive through Seattle at 92 MPH-- 90 W, 5 N, 520 E, 405 S—full circle to a house—theirs. Picking glass out of the carpet, a woman shouldn’t leave a shard in her thumb. She shouldn’t squeeze it out with her fingers two days later—see her blood dry on the kitchen countertop. She shouldn’t be speechless when he knocks her against a brick hearth. She should open the flue and let her voice boom.
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Sarah JonesSarah Jones is a poet and freelance writer living in Seattle. Before joining the Poetry Northwest staff, Sarah was an editorial intern with C&R Press and an assistant poetry editor of Lunch Ticket and Soundings Review. Sarah received her MFA in Poetry from Antioch University, Los Angeles. Her work has been featured on NPR and The Bridge. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Entropy magazine, The Normal School, New Ohio Review, The Raven Chronicles, American Literary Review, Yes, Poetry, and many other places. dancing girl press & studio will publish Sarah’s first chapbook in April 2018. You can find her at www.sarahjonespoet.com | Twitter: @writer_sejones |Instagram: @writer.sejones. |