Darling I got out of that rusting miracle beating too fast; glancing back I know that sinister slip was a surge of the skull along toward the horizon. I dropped unease, as if swallowed like a schoolgirl bent for rain, pretty, checking the sky for rain.
This is an erasure poem. Source: King, Stephen. Christine. New York: Signet, 1983. 34-35. Print.
The whole place is falling in
Always poison ivy the obscene tucked into her purse kneeling always running always this critical mass her eyes said, slowly: This must be the shadow. It seems incredible, bleeding, surviving sorta cute that her life had become hysterics, the act of working blind, a handprint shining (damn it) on the instant of flashgun falling.
This is a found poem. Source material: King, Stephen. Carrie. New York: Anchor, 2011. 10-14. Print.
E. Kristin Anderson is a poet and author living in Austin, TX. She is the co-editor of Dear Teen Me, an anthology based on the popular website and her next anthology, Hysteria: Writing the female body, is forthcoming from Sable Books. She is currently curating Come as You Are, an anthology of writing on 90s pop culture for ELJ Publications. Kristin is the author of eight chapbooks of poetry including A Guide for the Practical Abductee (Red Bird Chapbooks), Pray, Pray, Pray: Poems I wrote to Prince in the middle of the night (Porkbelly Press), Fire in the Sky (Grey Book Press), She Witnesses (dancing girl press), and We’re Doing Witchcraft (Hermeneutic Chaos Press). Kristin recently took a position as Special Projects Manager for ELJ and was a poetry editor at Found Poetry Review. Once upon a time she worked at The New Yorker. Find her online at EKristinAnderson.com and on Twitter at @ek_anderson.