Julie Brooks Barbour is the author of two full-length collections, Haunted City (2017) and Small Chimes (2014), both from Kelsay Books. Her most recent chapbook, Beautifully Whole, was published by Hermeneutic Chaos Press in 2015. She is co-editor of Border Crossing and Poetry Editor at Connotation Press: An Online Artifact, and teaches writing at Lake Superior State University.




Also by Julie Brooks Barbour: Haunted City Small Chimes Beautifully Whole

Previously in Glass: A Journal of Poetry: January


Julie Brooks Barbour

I Waste Everything but Words

run the water while washing dishes and never turn off the bathtub faucet tight enough. Drip after drip after rush — a waste. When I get a little extra money, I spend it. Unexpected, it's a gift, and don't I deserve something for denying myself the truth? I mind my manners and hemlines because my honesty would tear limbs from trees and buckle my father's heart. If the world crashes, I'm responsible. People say speak up if I have something to say, otherwise I'm wasting my life. If I tell the truth, I call love into question. Loosen bricks in a ranch house. Mildew and chew clapboard. If the chance to be a good girl might be wasted, I've been good and so quiet for half a life. There's a chance I'll waste my rapid breath and every frantic pulse. One time I told the secret so I could lift some of this heaviness, but it never lifted. My body still courted panic. So I told it again, then again and didn’t need to say please hold this close. Those I told knew the power of what I said when I named it.



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