losing our grip on purpose

By Chrissy Stegman

The medicine she needed was a locked door.

The gold thread of God’s gallows humor to be snipped.

The tooth of Eden to be pulled from the mouth of a bad Baptist

Chrissy Stegman is a poet/writer from Baltimore, Maryland. Recent work has appeared in/forthcoming: Rejection Letters, Gone Lawn, Gargoyle Magazine, Anti-Heroin Chic, Stone Circle Review, Fictive Dream, Inkfish, The Voidspace, The Madrigal, 5 Minutes, Ucity Review, and BULL. She is a BOTN nominee.