Julia Dickerson's Poetry

A place for my poetry.

Thursday 8:00am

She had made a life with him in Clayton, Indiana. But Thursday 8:00am she was in his rusted red pickup already going 80 on I-70 windows down, hair down whipping across her face

Angels In The Air

i come from the swing set of the summer night my dad and I talked about angels. every push sending me higher

Let There Be Fireworks

On the day I dressed in black for you I stood in line and they did too to toss some petals on the earth-- recognition of your worth. But as the petals fell up ahead, all I saw was dead on dead.

On Driving Home After Swimming in June

If it turns out that the plan doesn’t work for me and I end up living alone in a house shrouded by too many shade trees with dead plants in the window boxes and an old antique coffee table

third law

nights like fissures make me realize all we’ve lost little girls lose their naïveté cruel human nature divulged little boys lose their possibilities presented the sanctioned formulas

Where You Come From

I come from the spaces between your fingers, reside in the creases of your palm. I am what the fortuneteller reads in her room hazy with the dreams of a dawn. I come from the worn velvet