The months between second and third grade are a lacuna in my memory, save for the final day. Its details flood me with cruel clarity,...

Bury me With Slinky’s that intertwine Metallic twang No more Twilight purple and Fanta orange Dollar store Bury me with sticky jams In...

Why do you do this? my daughter asks. I’m wiping clean a piece of used aluminum foil, then folding it into a neat square to be stacked...

I left in winter, ice clinging to my eyelashes, slammed the car door and drove to a cheap motel. I left my guitar behind, came back the...

When the boy is on his knees for you, you will be the one who knights him. Slicing into his shoulders ever so slightly. Shallow cuts...

Seventh grade I learned of Virginia Woolf. A kindred - For I have always carried beach stones in my pocket. Small and smooth, never...

You pass me a red cup full of soda and vodka Making sure that it never goes completely empty. The hum of the fluorescent lights beating...

when you grow up in chaos, you never really learn what safe feels like. the fear of your parents’ arguments the shame of leaving with...

My mom is burning leaves and there is ink drying. The smoke is white this morning, and doesn’t stray from its column. Its smell is...

Who am I? Who have I been? Who do I want to be? My name is Sabrina Herrmann my initials sound like ‘essay’ if you say them fast enough I...

People say I’m quiet and keep to myself, but when I try to share they only hear what they want to hear... or it becomes about them....

who were to be my father-figures are dead. I witnessed their burials in the lands they thought they owned. They were the last to know of...