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katherine indermaur

I feel responsible

    for everything this

    morning, meaning  

I harbor a regal sadness.


My children, my

    kingdom are endless

    & on fire. I

bargain. I threaten. 


I make promises thin

    as ice & see

    -through. I swear

my demise & yours


are thicker than blood &

    boiling. On the news

    227 cold-stunned 

sea turtles are dead off


Cape Cod. Their barely

    biodegradable shells

    sink like fingernails

to tile the ocean floor.


Come evening, all my

    cuticles disappear. 

    Come evening,

come here. 

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Katherine Indermaur is the author of the chapbook Pulse (Ghost City Press, 2018). Her manuscript "Girl Descends Asunder" was a finalist for the 2019 Gasher Journal First-Book Scholarship. Her writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Bad Pony, Calamity, Coast|NoCoast, Entropy, Frontier Poetry, Ghost Proposal, Muse /A Journal, New Delta Review, Oxidant|Engine, Poetry South, Sugar House Review, Voicemail Poems, and elsewhere. She holds a BA from UNC-Chapel Hill and an MFA from Colorado State University, where she won the 2018 Academy of American Poets Prize. She lives in Salt Lake City. Find her online at

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