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Poem #15: Roses// Anna Hartman
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A screenshot of the poem "Roses" which reads: I threw my roses into the trash on a Monday. They had been full of hope, But they wouldn't last a move. The sky was grey -- the world was grey. It took next to no time to pitch them into the garbage bin, their stems still green, ready for spring. My roses will not grow anymore. Their blossoms and fragrance will not grace my house. I pricked my finger as I let them go, ruby blood dripping down my hand. I guess the roses were never meant to be beautiful. They were meant to remind me that beautiful things come at painful costs. -AH
July 8, 2025 at 4:16 PM
liann94.bsky.social
Poem #14: Angel// Anna Hartman
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A screenshot of a poem titled "Angel" which reads: I have an angel, but I never named her. She flew away as quickly as she floated in. It took me years to even know she had been. Two faint lines in the back of a club in a Chinese city whose name I've since forgotten. I thought I'd dreamed it I was so drunk. Too early to show on all but one stick. I have an angel, and I'm sure she's sitting on a cloud somewhere giving the other angels hell. I bled for weeks but assumed it was normal. I never considered it was life draining from my body. I ran a fever for weeks but assumed it was flu. I hurt but chalked it up to exhaustion. I have an angel. Do you? -AH
July 8, 2025 at 4:12 PM
liann94.bsky.social
Poem #13: Headstones// Anna Hartman
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A screenshot of the poem "Headstones" which reads: They asked me to die to myself and I did. I've died hundreds of little deaths. It always starts small. Some deaths have been loud and public, But most are quiet, slipping away unknown. I think we all do this whether we admit it or not. We all let small pieces of ourselves fade until one day we wake up And can't recognize our own reflection. I live in the past, sitting at the headstones of the pieces of me that I've buried. It's quiet there. Peaceful. I leave little flowers and think of what she could have been. Some might say I should move on, But what is the harm in remembering things you once loved? -AH
July 7, 2025 at 1:41 PM
liann94.bsky.social
Poem #12: Flight// Anna Hartman
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A screenshot of the poem "Flight" which reads: Should I run or stay still? I have this conversation with myself daily. If I run things will absolutely change. They'll zip by. They'll be in a flux of my own making. If I stand still, the moment might pass. If I am quiet and patient, the dust might settle. I think about this over morning coffee. I've chosen to stand still usually. Plant my feet into the ground and remain. Yet, perhaps it's time I move. Yes, I think this time I'll run, And I don't care who falls behind. I'll only care if they keep up. -AH
July 7, 2025 at 1:40 PM
liann94.bsky.social
Poem #11: Asylum// Anna Hartman
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A screenshot of the poem "Asylum" which reads: Bleed through your pen, but not from your heart, No one wants blood on the carpet. Cry through the Prose, but don't dampen your cheeks, It's going to make everyone uncomfortable. Scream in Iambic, but keep your mouth shut. You're going to disturb the neighbors. Lock your thoughts up in the written word, friend, An asylum for broken souls. -AH
July 7, 2025 at 1:38 PM
liann94.bsky.social
Poem #9: Chaos// Anna Hartman
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A screenshot of a poem titled "Chaos" which reads: We're all laughing around a table at some diner where we don't live. Just me and my boys and we've got tall milkshakes, unbuttoned collars, and slides on. The blue dye stains our noses and tongues and I feel like I'm 4 again. I've been in this diner where I don't live before, but I was always alone. I look around at sticky little hands and bodies that have grown far bigger with the years. I'm laughing. Really laughing. Not the fake kind you pull out for first dates. I'm smiling and it reaches my eyes in a way it never quite did before. It's all chaos at our table. It's all chaos in our lives. I'm so happy in this moment I could cry. We didn't make it all the way through the wedding, But we just might make it through this chaotic life. -AH
July 6, 2025 at 7:39 PM
liann94.bsky.social
Poem #8: Selkie II// Anna Hartman
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A screenshot of the poem titled "Selkie II" which reads: I walked back into the house and looked at the fur. I cut it into pieces knowing exactly what that meant. I gave one to each of my children -- made a coat for them to be wrapped in. I gave one to my husband -- gloves to keep his hands warm on a winter day. I cut those pieces of me so that I could never look back and run. I walked up a long hill covered in ice and snow and knew I would never again return to the sea. Behind me the past. In front of me the vast unknown. -AH
July 6, 2025 at 7:32 PM
liann94.bsky.social
Poem #7: Curses// Anna Hartman
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A screenshot of a poem titled "Curses" which reads: Unhinged, they said as if I were some kind of door And not a heart being burned in flames. You're being too much. You should calm down. Even though fire raced through my body, razing any feeling except pain. I yelled into an open freezer on a quiet November morning -- Cursed a child that didn't deserve it and unknowingly cursed myself. Perhaps I cursed the world on a cold autumn morning in 2019. Perhaps I hated life so much that I beckoned death to come. For death did. But not for me. And perhaps that was the true curse of it all. -AH
July 6, 2025 at 7:29 PM
liann94.bsky.social
Poem #6: Selkie// Anna Hartman
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A screenshot of a poem titled "Selkie" which reads: Breathe in. Breathe out. I tell myself this when the water feels too deep. One step. And then the next. I rehearse the directions until my feet feel sure. I used to wonder why the Selkie left her love, But now I realize it's because she missed herself. How hard it must have been to be torn betwixt land and sea -- the feral and the domestic. You can't shed what's carved upon your heart. You cannot change a thing that makes your very self You. I wonder how often she sat on the shore looking out, wishing to be free While aching to go back into the cottage. Did she breathe deep the air and miss the tang of salt? When she swam, did her heart cleave in two as she left her children? -AH
July 6, 2025 at 7:27 PM
fragilesnack.bsky.social
#notesfrommom
The back of an envelope on a kitchen counter with a note written in pencil "Don't Eat No Name Eggs Salmonella poisoning"
January 19, 2025 at 11:28 AM