Catrice Woodbury

Catrice Woodbury is a newcomer but has been writing her whole life. She was born and raised in Worcester, Massachusetts, and now lives in the Berkshires. She has performed at open mics in the Berkshires and at events such as Sleepover Fest.

 

massachusetts gothic

 

have you ever tried to leave

massachusetts, they ask.

have you ever

tried to cross

the border?

i look to my palms,

with their faint and

superficial cuts.

i do not remember.

p
i live on a dead end road

full of potholes

in the woods.

no one can come here

without losing

a little piece of themselves

along the way.

p
the sign of the bike trail is

covered in blood.

my bike is covered in blood.

you are covered in blood.

we do not remember why.

the wind tries to tell us,

but we cannot hear the whispers.

p

the leaves change shade,

from vivacious greens

to burnt oranges.

your eyes widen in fear.

winter is coming.

the snow is eternal.

so am i.

 

confluence

 

the tattooing of skin,

the communion

of beads of blood mixing with ink.

the pleather chair

was icy and unwelcoming

in the cramped parlor.

we went together

and she held my hand

and told me a story that i can’t remember.

i didn’t feel pain,

but when i turned,

i saw the needle nesting in my arm.

the cold spike,

the warm open wound,

flowing black and red together.

i looked in awe as i saw

the confluence.

 

fire

 

everything is destroyed in a fire,

but when the woods catch,

the first plant blooms,

and then others follow.

nature has a way of bouncing back.

p
i can come back from this.

i can start over from your blaze.

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