Stephanie Lane Sutton was born in Detroit. Her short prose has recently been published in The Offing and The Adroit Journal, as well as in the micro-chapbook Shiny Insect Sex (Bull City Press). In 2019, she received her MFA in poetry from the University of Miami.
I watched it from the crotch of the futon
folded out in Coleton’s living room.
Everything was dark & plaid that night
& as The Great Gig in the Sky lined itself up
to the spin of an uprooted house, I remembered
the first time I heard this song, the ceiling
of my older sister’s living room spun from box wine.
Her boyfriend explained to me, It’s the sound of someone
coming and dying at the same time. The next thing I remember
is waking up in a bed full of my red wine vomit, my sister
quietly washing her roommate’s sheets. Somewhere
inside of me, I was pregnant with an unnamed you.
I remembered you hours after my rape,
watching Dorothy’s mouth, shaped like a scream,
sustaining the non-lexical vocals of another woman
imagining she is just an instrument, a voice.