Muse Annie, by Katherine McCord
“The sky is a hurt in my hands, faint in the back of my throat, on my chest.”
What do you do with the ghosts who won’t let up? Katherine McCord bears witness, bears her burdens, and bares her wounds to fashion this deceptively slim, riveting series of prose poems from the dreams, the internal conversations–some of them one-sided, some not–in which she struggles to come to terms with absence and grief.
All night I flew, turned somersaults. Annie, you shouted, “I’m with you! You’re so high!” And then my limbs became soft, I grew an outer shell, rode with nothingness, landed on the fragrant yard, pushed off, the dresses of the dream billowing.