Breath & Shadow

A Journal of Disability Culture and Literature

Fall 2014

Volume 11 Issue 4



Breath and Shadow
  Fall 2014

Volume 11 Issue 4


By Jenna-Nichole Conrad

Poetry is writ;

Soft as the sky, static-charged with

Independent emotions dancing livewire steps

Through sunset slick veins.

And here is the poet, pen-stained

And naked in her thoughts. She has planted

A garden in her armchair;

It is time to harvest


By Jenna-Nichole Conrad

There were hours before
the clock grew tired of routine,
hung it's hat on the doorknob, folded its arms
to lay down, fetal-like,
swept under fraying corners of the carpet:

Thoughts, they are peeled as scabs
from the Bottom of My Mind,
the Back of My Heart,
to be shuffled into the rest of the deck
And shredded--Lingchi by paper cut.

I remember at random intervals
triggered by simple, minimalistic pettiness:
bitter tinged whiskey smelling like summer,
the creak slam of lazy-hinged storm doors,
unshakable sea-salt sweetness grinding down between bicuspids--

A swollen tongue to a cavity-turned-crater,
if only as a stark reminder that the Decay
is spreading.

Jenna-Nichole Conrad is a semi-nomadic poet experiencing existence in the Boston area. She lives with Bipolar II, and, on the good days, considers it a source of creative inspiration.

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