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Grief is

By Jo Angela Edwin

a selfish child.

It explodes over

trifles. This 

morning, my hair 

dryer broke.

Maybe ten years old

and inexpensive, it

lasted longer than

most. I bought 

another— almost the 


down to the color,

a smoky blue.

Still, I teared up

throwing the old one 

in the trash. It landed 

with a plastic thud.

When I bought it, 

you were still alive.

Though you never

touched it, never even 

saw it, you could 

have. You will never

see the new one.

That fact was enough 

to            leave           me 

quivering         another 


over the loss of you.

My howling reminds me 

of how real you were. 

I loved your presence on 

this earth so much that, 

should I ever stop

crying, I would even 

grieve the loss of that: the 

catch in my throat, the 


trailing-off (Jake photo).jpg

About the Author

Jo Angela Edwins has published poems in various venues, recently including Hamilton Stone Review, Mom Egg Review, and Schuylkill Valley Journal. Her chapbook Play was published in 2016, and her full-length collection A Dangerous Heaven is forthcoming this summer from Gnashing Teeth Press. She has received awards from Winning Writers, Poetry Super Highway, and the South Carolina Academy of Authors and is a Pushcart Prize, Forward Prize, and Bettering American Poetry nominee. She lives in Florence, SC, where she serves as the poet laureate of the Pee Dee region of the state.

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