http://slow.writerscafe.org/Kelleyquinn The original writings of author Kelley Quinn en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776009833 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 SometimesI pretend my fingernailsare fish scales -- artificial shine through the ocean waves. Sometimes I curl myhands tight,put them up to my ear,and listen for the wavesthat break with each heart beat. Sometimes I hold my armslike wings and stand soso tall and hope the win.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/2120500/ EnglishTongues tripping over foreign words dripping from foreign lips,pauses between your questionand my answer, mispronounced wordsslurring through wine and lust,half-whispered words remembered froman old Spanish dictionary. We talk like children -.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1994859/ I remember my father’s dry hands combing through wet tangles of my hair,just like my mother would. I remember lying about eatingThe vegetables gone soft and coldBeneath my sweating legs. I remember porcelain poultry, in the shape of tea kettles and match boxes, dancing in my little hands on gr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1961828/ I'll leave the spiders in the bathtub - they'll spin webs of my hair across the drainso only water can pass through. I'll leave the stove on, hoping the smoke detector will go off and wake me, but it won't - the batteries died and you weren'tthere to remind me. I'l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1912945/ I think in stanzas of broken poetryAt nightWhile making teaOr walking the beach,Alone, footstepsCovered in sand thatLooks like soot.  When I lie on my backWatching the fan make rounds,While I count1    .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1883404/ I used to doodle our names together,hearts with arrows pierced throughthem - how romantic, I thought - to be pierced by you, right through the chest untilmy breathing got tight,until only your thin fingers on my ribcagecould soothe.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1883401/ I have one freckleOn my palm.It appeared one dayIn tenth grade. It's not a very significant freckle -Small, hashy brown, lumpy. I hated its randomness, Its exclusiveness (why only one?)I hated its asymmetrical choice: Not i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1883399/ Kettle boiling boilinghot hot hot. Suddenly - a noiseWho’s there?knock knock knock.  “No one’s here”says no one, bustling about.  The chicken is ready,the children are not. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1881983/ I wish I could gather all my memoriesof you --crunch and pinch them down until they were a small seed.One I could swallow easily one morning to stop worrying aboutforgetting you.I am forgetting things. Like your face -- sometimes I can't fit it all together -- I ca.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1871241/     Nic came home from the Marines in June. I was 19.            Jonah, Zach, and I met him at the Atlanta Airport at 5 pm. We hadn’t seen him since we had graduated high school a year ago.      &nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1854620/ Can I? You raise your hand, Ask, “Ms. Miller,Please please canIUse the restroom?” She says, “I don’t know …Can you?”  To which you groan, reply,UGH MAY I USE THERESTR.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1854615/ I borrowed your copy of Across the Universeand never watched it because there were too many expectations to love it -I was never a huge Beatles fan anyway. I never returned itand you stopped asking. Every now and then,when I’m thinking about youor cleaning my room,I find it.And .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1854611/ When you died,I stopped writing in my journal. I didn't care anymore. I didn't want the memories to leave me. I wanted them to be mine. And if I wrote them down, I would have a reason to forget them. Someone else - something else - would remember them for me. I don't kn.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1846173/ I was nine, sitting in the tree in my front yard, thinking aboutwomen.               Inever thought the word gay, onlythat I would look at older women walking down the street and I’d stare at theirbodies and marvel at their faces. I couldn&r.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1784824/ Apparently our entire universe is in a constant state of expansion.  Even when we’re touching,our molecules resist,like two magnetssuspended in space.  Like two lovers:one on land, reachingtowards the otheras the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1770431/ Our world is so obsessed with numbersThe time, the stations, the miles perhour, the years you should stay in college,how old you should be when you get married,how many years apart your children should be,the number of dollars in your bank account,your social security number - that is who you are,yo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1740886/ Baby,whisper to mebetween books betweenlibrary aisles.Run your finger down my spine so you don’t loseyour place.I want to fall in lovebeneath the oneswho have only everwritten about it.Feel free to check meout any time,as long as you know there willbe punishment ifyou’re overdue.Do .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1739171/ The same daymy nephew tells me he lovesme, my father breaks ameasuring cup. My barefoot motherstands in thecorner of thekitchen.I run into the room, asking if they're okay. My father’s hand whipsout, hits me hard andcold on the shoulder. Get the hell out,he says, his voiced.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1727166/ “Alright, we gotfour kegs, fifteen pledges, five handles of that weird Killer Vodka that Bronxlikes, a pack of 800 straws for the ladies, hella tequila -- also, I saw somepiñatas so I grabbed some of those. -- ok and then six bagged wine thingies,you kn.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1723459/ A worldexists between your lips and mine -A volcano’s edge your mouthcraters,with teeth so white I mistake them for doves and  There is a world between us -your nose is an Icelandic capwheremysteries beginning at the base.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1695277/ Working Title http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1695273/             Niccame home from the Marines in June.            Heather,Fahed, Zach, and I meet him at the Atlanta Airport at 5 pm. We haven’t seen himsince we graduated .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1657436/ I locked him away,buried him beneaththe hibiscus plantbehind the shed with thedoor that always creaks. And I piled on the dirtwith my father’s oldshovel, cakedin labor’s soil. I buried himwhere the lakeswallows the red-clay shore. Thick and unforgiving, The clay.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1622347/ A girlwith blonde hair and small hands stood behind a stone column as I stoodslightly off the curb of my elementary school’s carpool lane, with one footdangling in the road. I introduced myself and she asked me my grade.      &.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1619741/ The Moon           In eighth grade, my mother read my journal. She found out that my boyfriend,Andres, had snuck over to our house a few days before.March24, 2009        &nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1619737/        Thereis sand on the kitchen floor and pasta sauce that has been left overnight onstacked plates. I look over at him and he’s looking over at me, his lips partedin a way that could easily be filled with words. For a moment, I wonder whathis voic.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1614001/ She is yellow.When her fingertips roll down my cheek, tracing the path of tears and smiles,she leaves gold behind.She tells me she loves me,her eyelids flickering like candlelight. Her eyes remind me of cinnamon burning. I feel my mouth fillwith hesitation. How can I answer without.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1608768/ A response piece to Aditi Rao's Not Being A Man, I Bleed Like This http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1608584/ I pledge allegiance To the flagOf the United States of AmericaAnd to the republicFor which it stands,One nation,Under god,Indivisible,With liberty and justice for all. I pledge allegiance --to my American brothers and sisters -- my family,even if only in soul. To the flag.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1527343/ He’s beautiful --and not because his skin is sewn with threadedsun or because his eyes answerwhat I never thought to ask. He’s beautiful --and not because his handsdraw ruins in my back,spelling out love withfingers and.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1521675/ touch yourselflove yourself first do not let someoneroll their fingersdown your spinespinning threadsof lies into your skin.  Do not let their words soak in.  Be impermeable. Waterproof your.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1495394/ I am not soft petalswith lilac perfume and yellow words.I am not caramel skin that dips slowlyand rolls like warmchocolate in andunder pale dresses.I am not toffee hair falling overflowers, tickling babies'faces, laying on creme-colored pillows.I am not a gentle beauty.I am deep .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1494633/ No matter the number of apologies,no small word can erase the feelof dirt beneath my knees,clutching the torso of the closest being,pushing tears out at such a speed they grow solid before the ground,icicles shattering the earth's skinas sharply as you did mine http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1492556/ I hope rain falls onyouI hope thunder shakesyour stem and mud splatters onyour petalsI hope weeds weavealong your veinsI hope the eartherodes your roots Because your petalsare pink, even if they’re wiltingyour soil swel.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1489500/ All counting starts at one.I count on my five fingers, each withsome sort of nail polish,cracked and stained with paint fromthe portrait I had worked on for weeksbefore I decided that no one deserved to look at it and so it begins with one. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1488797/ You degraded mebroke me, tortured me,loved me.you asked: What are you thinkingabout?Well.I think about lakes lapping shores,hot skin on hot porches,cold, green grass. I think about the coffin you place me inbecause you do.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1488794/ You only call me baby on Sundaysbetween sheets like sapphire-spunwaves, breaking on skinthe color of sandThe currents push and pull your lips as they wash over my skin,leaving something as secret as the ocean floor Sheets the color of navy curling capture the wind and steer us with no compass, no an.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1459123/ I find my sanity in thespaces between the white linesand the synapses of serotoninin my mind I want to feelI want painI want it to rip from me in a scream that holdsevery miniscule feeling of painAnd I want it I wa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1452370/ Why I Don’t Believe In God I trusted you withmy soul, singingpraise, hands open,eyes wide, wanting, needingthe acceptance of the nonexistent.I sacrificed judgment,hatred, loss, and lovefor youandI loved you I loved you. Until my heart broke, until I felt the warmth of faithmelt.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1449445/ I hold onto secrets like rose petals I open it and everyone turns tostare because the petals are in my handsin my hairunder my skinlike words And the rosesare too brightredalivebut they’re broken, too.  .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1444523/            The blackpavement and white dashed lines fly under and out the back of the car as I holdmy head out the window, tasting the dry air and letting my hand ride the fastwind. Stolen Dance comeson the radio and my two friends sc.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1434780/ he only calls me baby on sundaysand b***h on mondayswhen i forget the cream for hiscoffee or put the laundry in forone cycle instead of twobut now it’s tuesday and i always forgetmy name on days like this http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1430113/ Ihaven’t had a drink in ten years. A man hasn’t touched me in five. I am 31,single, and tall. And tonight, I will enter into a drunken haze: a place forbidden to myconscience and liver for too long. Tonight, no man will touch me. Tonight, Iwill touch a man. Thenight starts.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1420529/             F**k.             Ispilled my drink on that girl in the peach dress and now she’s glaring at melike I burned her. Excuse me, princess... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1375446/ And she said yes,silently, trembling because to befickle would instigate a new thought,a new pain, and still she said yes. The daylight whispersnoand she believes thelogic and formality.Because a thoughtwith no home cannot be kept clean.A thought alone drifts, dirtying itself andbecomes an acti.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1352741/ You think the words will fix you, but they wont.Iremember endless, pale fingers running up my arms that were pickled in goosebumpsand I was drowning in my own sweaty skin pressed against yours.  MaybeI bit my lip, inviting seduction and evading the truth because may.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1344583/ *** TRIGGER WARNING: SEXUAL ASSAULT *** http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1341249/ I am constantly reminded of my skin color. A plain face in an American crowd disappearsEasily without a second glance And they think of me as simple. No human being is simple, no matter the color.  My skin covers my whole being, wrapp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1337985/ I am not the woman you love The woman you love is hairy,bloated, frizzy, and a b***h.  I am not the woman you love. I shave and tweeze my legs, my eyebrows.I wax my holy grail, eliminating any trace of Humanity. &nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1336042/ The stars are out tonight. When I can’t sleep, I like to look up and spin, spin, spin, until I’m falling into the stars and diamond eyes catch me, whisperingyou are eternalinto my ear.  Don’t let me go. Let me stay with you,become you, untilthe wal.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Kelleyquinn/1324648/