Amanda Crum


I was raised in Kentucky 
but you can trace my cells 
through the crumbling infrastructures 
of Ohio. 
Veins as a map, 
corpuscles as the ashy trees 
studding rocky faces. 
Where clouds 
smudge the mountainside 
my heart lies in repose, 
clutching the moon like an old man 
laying flowers on a grave. 
We always imagine
there’s enough time to go back 
and find the ghosts 
of our grandmothers nodding over front porches, 
roll our toes through the grass 
our mothers once did somersaults in. 
But every map is finite, 
each fold creating fissures 
that cannot be undone.

Amanda Crum is a writer and artist whose work can be found in publications such as Eastern Iowa ReviewBlue Moon Literary and Art Review, and Barren Magazine, as well as in several anthologies. Her first chapbook of horror poetry, The Madness In Our Marrow, made the shortlist for a Bram Stoker Award nomination in 2015; her latest, Trailer Trash, will be published by Finishing Line Press in early 2019. She currently lives in a tiny town in Kentucky.