Carolyn Guinzio


So the snow started
a five thirty drifting
up against car doors
they have been saying
for years this or that
will get us we're numb
to it going numb losing
our fellow feeling feeling
more for dogs we don't
believe any more faith
melting on the asphalt
when it hits hot from
tires we never tire of
try and stop me I'm going
out in it whatever is
coming is not coming
for me if I don't come
back you can tell
my body I was wrong




The sixteen weeks wait
for mental health services
line down the block blocked
out time they told my parents
about is not what the truth is
they can't see how thin
the mattress thinning in middle
of what they think I can do
this my parents think I can
do this on Zoom they assume
they are seeing the truth
in the hall in the dining
hall looks so pretty online
everyone is looking down
I can't bridge between what
I show them the time lapse
campus cameras look away
from what they should not
subscribe to I told them not
to look but I text them to say
if you see this if you see about
this I am still okay right now
whatever happened in the night
was not to me this time



Carolyn Guinzio published seven books, the most recent A Vertigo Book, winner of the Tenth Gate Prize and the Foreword Indies Award. Earlier books include Spoke & Dark, winner of the To The Lighthouse/A Room Of Her Own Prize and Ozark Crows, a collection of visual poems. Her work has appeared in Los Angeles Review, The Nation, The New Yorker and many other journals. She received an Artists 360 Grant for a group of poems about borders. Her poems/films have been included in numerous juried festivals, including the Poetry Film and Video Symposium, the Nature and Culture Festival in Copenhagen, the Newlyn Festival, and the Cadence Poetry Film Festival. Her website is