Drusilla's Retreat

Image Credit: Jeremy T., Lubbock, TX The author's comments: This piece was written based of William Faulkner's character, Drusilla, in his novel The Unvanquished. There with her gun she stands Watching all the men march by Her fingers itching at the trigger Just one little movement And a blast would rip out of the barrel Ripping perhaps into one of these men These men who have betrayed her But she does not fire She stands straight with That ladylike smile Watching as they retreat With their holey shoes Their tattered pants and worn shirts While she is compressed into the skirts The ribbons and soft colors She yearns for the bandages wrapped Round their heads She wishes for the calluses Covering their hands Oh, to have dirt in her fingernails And bruises on her arms She laments all this silently They must not know her desires Only the gun knows Her innermost wants Her dreams of battle, That is to say, of freedom Freedom to sit around a fading fire in rags Freedom to curse and sweat and be filthy Freedom to feel blood pour down her middle After an enemy's bullet has found its mark These are the sweet images that haunt her That taunt her each night Come with us, Drusilla They whisper like honey Come with us and fight Life is not yours until it is at risk They whisper and whisper You are no lady, you are captive Which she is She does not stand She hangs from chains Locked on her smooth wrists She holds no gun But a needle and thread And all of those men Her one-time comrades They did not betray her They simply sent her back to her nest Only now, she carries her dreams with her Like a gun in her arms Her fingers itching at the trigger This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.



STORY OF THE WEEK: December 8

The story of the week for December 2 to 6 is… Balloonman by Melody Leming-Wilson

LOIS ROSEN: Before My Second Wedding

My father-in-law-to-be mowed our yard with his tractor, transforming the tangle into a park. My son sobbed, He killed my favorite blackberry bush. “But there are more,” I argued. “Look, they’re all over.” He wouldn’t face where I pointed. I wish I’d said, “It’s painful to lose what you love.” Lois Rosen’s poetry books are … Continue reading LOIS ROSEN: Before My Second Wedding →

KENT OSWALD: Color Him Unimpressed

She farted the color yellow. She perspired the color blue. Her most angry thoughts created a greenish aura around her head, while both her lusty imaginings and lightning-like pangs of envy created an orange fog around her feet. Her tinder date was color-blind. It might have worked. It did not. There are no answers at … Continue reading KENT OSWALD: Color Him Unimpressed →

CASEY LAINE: Photographs of the Condemned

Capturing those final shots On the eve of an execution I wonder what words Her lips do not speak I wonder, yes, but I do not ask Because I know In my shadowed heart That a look as blue as her eyes in that light Is an answer in itself. Casey Laine comes from a … Continue reading CASEY LAINE: Photographs of the Condemned →

SOPHIA AUSTIN: Empty Seats

Just keep breathing. Their seats are still empty. My mind immediately comes up with a thousand old tired excuses: maybe traffic is bad; maybe the car didn’t start. Holding out hope? Two more then I’m up. I look at their seats again, still empty. Disappointment and relief wash over me. Sophia Austin works in Marketing … Continue reading SOPHIA AUSTIN: Empty Seats →