Jill Has Root Rot

By Kyle Brandt-Lubart

A helicopter parent

Cared too much to ask

What do you need

Knuckle deep kept hidden

Puddles pooled at the bottom

Can you cry into your stomach?

Jill learned how because 

She needed to store it 

Somewhere untouched by pointed fingers

Good egg turned bad seed

Prying neighbors brayed

Why did she go so far away?

Gossiping winds know

She found somewhere to sow

Her mistakes into sweet moans

To let them ripen into her own

Bump and grind with them 

Into marigold mornings

On the phone amidst static

She wonders how gratitude and disdain

Become intimate with one another 

And if one day she will

Want to plant another seed

Near the cold concrete landing pad


Kyle Brandt-Lubart (she/her)  is a poet, visual artist, and Licensed Clinical Social Worker who resides in St. Louis, Missouri, USA. Brandt-Lubart works full-time, providing free therapy services to uninsured and underinsured individuals living with mental illness. She was a St. Louis Regional Arts Commission Community Arts Training Institute Fellow from 2017-2018. Her writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Vita Brevis, Agapanthus Collective, and MoonInk Tanka Poetry Anthology, and she was selected as a Dear Butte writer-in-residence for Fall 2021. She is co-author/illustrator of the chapbook, It Made A Sound, which is due to be released in Fall 2021.

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