Dotted Line Dotted Line

Poetry Winter 2014    fiction    all issues


Debbra Palmer
Bake Sale
& other poems

Ann V. DeVilbiss
Far Away, Like a Mirror
& other poems

Michael Fleming
On the Bus
& other poems

Harold Schumacher
Dying To Say It
& other poems

Heather Erin Herbert
Georgia’s Advent
& other poems

Sharron Singleton
Sonnet for Small Rip-Rap
& other poems

Bryce Emley
College Beer
& other poems

Harry Bauld
On a Napkin
& other poems

George Mathon
Do You See Me Waving?
& other poems

Mariana Weisler
Soft Soap and Wishful Thinking
& other poems

Michael Kramer
Nighthawks, Kaua’i
& other poems

Jill Murphy
& other poems

Cassandra Sanborn
& other poems

Kendall Grant
Winter Love Note
& other poems

Donna French McArdle
White Blossoms at Night
& other poems

Tom Freeman
On Foot, Joliet, Illinois
& other poems

George Longenecker
& other poems

Kimberly Sailor
The Bitter Daughter
& other poems

Rebecca Irene
& other poems

Savannah Grant
And Not As Shame
& other poems

Michael Hugh Lythgoe
Titian Left No Paper Trail
& other poems

Martin Conte
We’re Not There
& other poems

A. Sgroi
Sore Soles
& other poems

Miguel Coronado
& other poems

Franklin Zawacki
Experience Before Memory
& other poems

Tracy Pitts
& other poems

Rachel A. Girty
& other poems

Ryan Flores
Language Without Lies
& other poems

Margie Curcio
& other poems

Stephanie L. Harper
Painted Chickens
& other poems

Nicholas Petrone
Running Out of Space
& other poems

Danielle C. Robinson
A Taste of Family Business
& other poems

Meghan Kemp-Gee
A Rhyme Scheme
& other poems

Tania Brown
On Weeknights
& other poems

James Ph. Kotsybar
& other poems

Matthew Scampoli
Paddle Ball
& other poems

Jamie Ross
Not Exactly
& other poems

Savannah Grant

And Not As Shame

I want to wear your memory

as a red overcoat

the one you tried to throw away

but I keep it anyway

even though it’s too big

             (I shrunk it in the wash

             but you hate it when

             I do that)

July’s Herald

I wonder if the dog knew

you were drinking

weaving through piles

of mail and clothes

I remember the color

of that carpet at the top of the stairs

dirty tan lighter than I imagine


the way I remember it is disorder

staring out a window

no line I can follow but

one jagged through the house

and in the doorway of your bedroom

I felt the tug away from you

a joint trying to dislocate

Unmention II

the first time you tried to lock me inside

was maybe the fourth time you decided to hit me

but the first time my head hit the wall

I learned how to block you

because you always aimed for the head

a long time ago you put a hole in my dad’s eardrum

he used to say it was from ear infections

On The Brink II

at 1:38am I read that you buried the dog

in the back yard

that’s what happens at the house

we bury dogs

I sent a pseudo-prayer from my bed tearless

said she was better off dead

but she had you to take care of her

while she lost her brain and her hips

to the floorboards and grey frigid March

she was nice to lie next to while I knew her

On Returning in June

two years and the cat’s still fat

the room’s no longer mine

the wallpaper’s gone and the desk

isn’t under the windows

I remember every thing

I ever lost there

in that basement

I always find new blankets and shirts

I forgot to take with me

I’m sure there are moments

that haven’t moved yet

the ghosted sound

of a wineglass set on a chest of drawers

a wasp’s nest in a railing

a day’s quiet


Savannah Grant is a recent graduate of Smith College, where she won prizes for fiction and poetry. She is always looking to write new poems and improve her work and hopes to someday make graphic novels. She lives with her dad and a small (very lucky) black cat.

Dotted Line