welcome home, starling

you are safe now

Wow, What A Country

Wow, What A Country

There wasn’t a time I didn’t think of your chin.

Milk drips in a way that is new every time -


Cowboys ride bulls for money, while I work for you.

Do you like it, do you like it?

What I do in this new land?

It matters to me what you think.


This is the next best thing - this Kiss-Uncle.

Like ripples and chips y azucar de la guerra -


Suck something out of me, if you are going to persist in this

Sweet sugar; if the sky isn’t going to give a shit.

They are sending illegals home...


I wonder who will milk the cows? The milk drips

in a new way, each time with different hands.


The cow hates the feeling of such uninitiated fingers - the digits

which know nothing of her nipple. Deplorable grabbers

of the teat who know not what it takes to create the rhythmic

tug; the sensual thumb rumba - nor how they came to call

this land, their home.


I have so much invested in this. It makes or breaks me;

every peak, every strawberry vale, tesoro. I am wanton

pleasure and disappointment. O America. The

milkdripsneweverytime. Wow, what a country.



Elisabeth Horan is a poet, mother, student, lover of kind people, and animals, homesteading in Vermont with her tolerant partner and two young sons. She hopes the earth can withstand us and that humans may learn to be more kind to each other and to Mother Nature.

She has recently been featured at the Occulum, Quail Bell Magazine, Cauldron Anthology and Dying Dahlia Review. She has work forthcoming at Alexander & Brook, Paragon Journal and Switchgrass Review.

Elisabeth is a 2018 MFA Candidate at Lindenwood University and teaches at River Valley Community College in New Hampshire.

Follow her @ehoranpoet.

Portrait of Trauma as an Ocean

Portrait of Trauma as an Ocean

I Can't Be

I Can't Be