Catherine Garbinsky: A Coffin with My Voice
Photo: Joanna C. Valente

Photo: Joanna C. Valente



i have never carried

a coffin with my voice


heavy heavy rough deep

six feet until morning


your name scratched

into the stone of me


grass grows greener

in between broken bones


there are bridges that lead

nowhere, tarot cards that mean


nothing (or everything depending

upon the day of the week)


squish crunch hush

the ground is wet, sprinklers


baptize the dead thsk thsk thsk brrrrrr

grief rests on my tongue, pulls


sour at my cheeks

the sun keeps rising



My eyelashes are covered in morning frost / it is too cold to sleep outdoors again / it is too hot to sleep inside / frost melts into dew trickles down into beads of sweat into tears and salt / and I will dive into the ocean and I will swallow kelp and become a forest / home to urchins and abalone and otters and seals / I will be baptized by the waves / I will be rushed back to shore in their arms / I will be / I will be

Catherine Garbinsky is a writer living in Northern California. Catherine is the author of All Spells Are Strong Here (Ghost City Press, 2018) and Even Curses End (Animal Heart Press, 2019). Her work has been featured or is forthcoming in Rag Queen Periodical, Flypaper Magazine, Coffin Bell Journal, and others.