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The Bones Below

The Bones Below

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The Bones Below

4/5 (27 valutazioni)
71 pagine
32 minuti
Oct 1, 2018


A clear voice of her generation, Sierra DeMulder’s writing offers a gritty, sincere perspective on the subtle joys and modern pains of living. Her debut collection The Bones Below delicately carries the reader to a place of brutal, beautiful honesty. DeMulder’s personal revelations complete a touching portrait of the young artist and her fearless exploration of the human experience, bare in its rawest and most tender forms.

DeMulder possesses the most important quality a young writer can have, a unique voice. That voice exploded onto the national poetry scene. Sierra uses subtlety and tension the way photographers use angle. She will eat your heart out with a spoon. -Karen Finneyfrock, “Ceremony for the Choking Ghost"

DeMulder is intensely personal. - Huffington Post

violently passionate and sweet, deftly moving between the two modes. - The Lamron, New Journal of SUNY Geneseo
Oct 1, 2018

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Anteprima del libro

The Bones Below - Sierra DeMulder

The Bones Below

a collection of poetry

by Sierra deMulder

Write Bloody Publishing

America’s Independent Press

Long Beach, CA

The Bones Below

by Sierra deMulder

Write Bloody Publishing ©2010.

1st printing.

Printed in USA

The Bones Below Copyright 2010.

All Rights Reserved.

Published by Write Bloody Publishing.

Printed in Long Beach, CA USA.

No part of this book may be used or performed without written consent from the author, if living, except for critical articles or reviews.

Cover Designed by Joshua Grieve

Interior Layout by Lea C. Deschenes

Edited by Derrick Brown, shea M gauer, Saadia Byram, Michael Sarnowski

Proofread by Sarah Kay

Type set in Helvetica Neue and Bell MT

To contact the author, send an email to

For Brian & my sisters

"And then the day came, when the risk

to remain tight in a bud was more painful

than the risk it took to Blossom."

—Anaïs Nin

The Bones Below

At First Sight

When she stops kissing you

with her mouth open,

find the screw driver.

Buy a newly cut shank of beef.

Leave so much blood in the kitchen

she has to ask what happened.

When she no longer calls you baby,

hide all the silverware

between the couch cushions.

Send her there to sleep.

If she does not complain,

let the sinks in the bathroom overflow.

Bake the wedding photos

in the dryer. Stand in

the middle of your flood.

Call her name backwards, forwards.

Wave your arms like your chest is a runway.

She is the plane you are crashing.

When she does not reach

for you, pretend

it is the first time

you’ve met.

Misplacing Their Ring Fingers

The summer my parents lost their marriage

like so many magnets kicked under the refrigerator,

my cousin and I named trees after babysitters

we never had. We lived in our bathing suits,

washed our hair in pond water and sunburned.

(Once, my mother slammed the screen

door so hard, I comforted the hinges.) I taught

my cousin how to make face paint out of spit

and dirt. She taught me to swim underwater.

(Once, I found my father weeping on the bed

they did not share anymore.) On the green carpet

of summer, we played until the cicadas, dressed

in dusk, called us to dinner. We kissed goodnight

and I ran home

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  • (5/5)
    Pure brilliance. Also, there is a competition happening this April till the end of May on the NovelStar app, I hope you can consider joining. If you have more stories like this, you can also publish them there just email the editors, the link below is the details about the competition.
  • (5/5)
    Exceptionally raw!