I hold grievances grown so old they are
calcified, rounded, smooth-pearled possessions—
each tucked away in its own bitter sphere.
I know each by feel, by weight, by passion—
I know where they’ve been lodged and exactly 
why I keep them there. I’ve grown used to their
presence, to the collected gravity
of each and every ancient reminder
of who and what and why and when rotten
things happened. I’ve kept them all. Kept them all
this time. Felt their sharp angers dull, soften
into me, felt them become mutable
as I held them, shaped them perfectly.
And when I die I will take them with me.

Juleigh Howard-Hobson’s work can be found in Think Journal, Mezzo Cammin, Able Muse, The Alabama Literary Review, Birds Fall Silent in the Mechanical Sea (Great Weather for Media), Under Her Skin (Black Spot Books), and many other venues. She’s been nominated for Best of the Net, the Pushcart Prize, the Elgin and the Rhysling Awards. She was a Laureates’ Choice prize winner in the 2024 Maria W. Faust Sonnet Contest. Her 6th and latest book is Curses, Black Spells and Hexes (Alien Buddha Press).

Header photograph and artwork by Jordan Keller-Wilson