CN: Anti-autistic ableism Genre: Autobiographical poem Golden infinity. A shimmering figure eight in repose. I’m not a puzzle piece. I have endless potential of being. I’m verbal when I’m silent. My fingers speak for me. Tapping away. Sometimes I forget to turn off the closed captions on my face. I can’t remain focused on one …
CN: stress, mental health Genre: space opera poem Pulled. Pulled. Pulled in all directions. This can’t be good, right? My suit won’t tolerate much more of this. I feel like that elastic action hero from days of old. So far there’s only some pressure on my joints. They said that the suit would only stretch …
Continue reading Mini-fiction Monday: Stretched Thin, Longing for the Deep
So, this has been a full year for me, even though my name is only on one book. Since that book happens to be an anthology where I am co-editor, I will already take that as a win! It’s not the quantity, but the quality, as they say. And in the case of this collection, …
My Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD) has sent me into a tailspin this morning, so I wrote a poem about how it feels, as one does! Please note that these are just my own perceptions while in this headspace. Arr Ess Dee I’ve been inside the funnel the tailspin, the cyclone and I can’t get grounded …
I am fluent in languagesnot like English, Français, or Gaeilge.I mean the social languagesyou constructed beforeand built duringmy time. There were no classes to teach meall of the facial expressions, subtext,and the unspoken assumptions.I learned by mistakesand the shunningthat followed. To survive and be acceptedI refused to give up; I mastered them.Even though I despised …
Someone you say is crazy rich can also be extremely wealthy Something you say is stupid can also be so frustrating Someone you say is an idiot can also be a real jerk Something you say is foolish can also be quite risky Someone you say is so OCD can also be a person who …
Steps One foot in front of the other hurts. My gait is off. The people on the street see me stagger. I know they think I'm drunk. My two legs have to become three. One is a stick. It propels me forward but there's still pain. If I stand still, I fall. I'm now propped …
My poem, Invisible, was published on Lady literary magazine. It's about living with fibromyalgia. You can read it here! Image: Ecology Landscape Stock Photo, by Witthaya Phonsawat.
Cait Gordon—author and editor 