With only a pursed lip

and tone of crazed despair,

my body constricts itself,

the way a snake takes hold of it’s prey

right before the kill.


And you know the way

your throat closes and reopens

with the tangled sentiment of choked back tears?


No, wait.

That’s me, too.


And then the panic sets in-

the black of eyelids falling privy

to sudden heat, as it inches

as far as my fingertips-


where jagged nails are now

smooth and growing,

like the red dahlia stunted in shadows,

now blooms full with the sun.


I want to feel the freedom

of a criminal.


Send me away…


Anywhere, but here, I cry.








by Hannah Bushman


Self-proclaimed humanitarian, Hannah Bushman, is a lover of literature, music, and peppermint tea. She believes that the right song on a television show can make all the difference in the world. Hannah is a graduate of John Carroll University with a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology. In addition to poetry, Hannah revels in the creativity of photography and the logistics of psychology.

Leave a Reply