Sunday DinnerThe metal clink of her name
against mine fills the small space
and I think I could live in this quiet
forever.
juliawatson
Julia Watson earned her MFA from North Carolina State University. A Best of the Net and Pushcart Prize nominee, she lives in Asheville with her three dogs and one fiancé.
Asheville , NC, United States
Selected work (21 publication)
The Playlist Reaches "At the Bottom of Everything" Take me back to the car, lift me onto the hood. Listen to paint creak.
The deer are done watching. They are crepuscular,
catatonic at this hour.
EuryaleShe was dead before she died, how a serpent writhes
without its skull.
Sounding Him Out 1966— my father sets a field on fire with his friend
or his friend's friend; with matches or a gun or cheap fireworks
sparking a thin corrosion, a sputtering
spine in the sky.
Mother WeepsI lover her passion, her healing, how
she loves everything and nothing
all at once.
Terminal Dinner with a Side of MacShe told me over mushroom stroganoff that's it's an incurable disease
in which the central nervous system attacks itself.
Summers on the Mountain TownSickly-sweet fumes of funnel cake & kippered meat
coated in molasses penetrate the gauzy mask
of fog. A coyote sulks in the carpark.
Creatures in the Last HourRabbits camouflage under pine needles.
Gophers gather in storm drains. Against the window,
the birds are petty. Rehashing old wounds.
A brown recluse braids her web in darkness
under the pipe-drip of a bathroom sink.
Atlanta Zoo, 1999When mama brought us there, we’d sit in front
of the baboon exhibit, crack jokes
about their inflamed hineys, red
and puckered. Enclosed here and in the wild
baboons do not mate for life.
What Happens to Fish in the Tank After Closing Time? Five bucks to the hour. Five months surviving
on day-old miso, bobbing cubes of raw tofu, seaweed
that stuck to my teeth. I broke a sweat, a rib, too-long eye
contact with a handsy busboy. Waiting
The Edge of Mainelate in May we bobbed in Jacks’ boat
to the one house island,
breath as though our souls were reaching
Hand-Me-DownsI think women in this family are
cursed. I’ve heard hisses in the sway of our hair.
She Tells You She Only Married Your Dad for Children At this party, they wore each other out and retreated
to refreshments. At this party, they each wore black.
Things That Last to 15An angleworm, a chicken, a fox
in good health.
Alternate Ending Where the Car FlipsThere’s supposed to be resolution,
each good play: an outcome, an outro, an encore,
a side door to slip through once all’s said and done.
In the Old Photographsthere’s a child with love smeared around their mouth
there’s a woman named rachel or at least her hair is
When You Tell People I'm Sensitive, I Want to Kill YouSo what
if I cry from happiness, cuteness
overload, if I curl in our blanket
with the Sunday scary despair
that I will die & you will die
& our old dog Annie will too?
The Table I'm Serving Asks Me To Sing You blew out forty candles and I already knew
your wish. My wish? To be under my covers, pink
and mauve, sorry head on my beat-up Pillow Pet
Runner BoyIt’s one of those days you wish there was less
at stake. The only worry: serving the large
Bianca to table four, straws to six. Hoping
the cute runner boy might escort you
to the dumpster after close, maybe
ask you to hitch a ride
The Body on Fire Inside Me can you stamp / out the cinders / extinguish the spine / can you kill /
each light / jimmy the switch the dead / outlet suspended
Fresh Bedding My bed a park, loosened
with the shedding of our bodies.