Fall/Winter 2014
Artwork, “Within” by Niall parkinson
demon du jour
We live together, you and me.
You live inside me.
You move through my body.
I feel you in my throat,
burning like a struck match,
covering my words in ash.
I feel you in my stomach,
thick and foul,
making me sick.
I feel you in my head,
permeating every thought,
clawing at my eyes,
altering what I see.
You live inside me.
Strip everything I am and you will remain,
small and black,
bitter and hard like a bit of coal,
moving across my insides,
darkening wherever you go.
We live together, you and me.
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The week Amy Lawson turned 40 her heart broke, both metaphorically and physically. A few months later she would undergo open heart surgery to repair one. The other, however, could not be fixed by a surgeon’s blade. Through many months of healing she began writing poetry and creative non-fiction and slowly her words ushered in the healing that her body and soul craved.
Amy Lawson is a divorced mom of two boys and lives in Gainesville, Florida.