I put you to bed, cleaned for your mother.
Outside men in two-doors trolled for lovers.

Last century Buffalo—I couldn’t wait to leave.
Better to be nowhere eventually.

You grew, stuck needles between your toes
or in your neck—I don’t know how old

you were. Let mourning begin—
sometimes I’m by your bed again

holding your hand, singing verses
when you wake, you shall have all the pretty little horses.


Amy Schmitz lives in San Diego, California. Her first poetry collection, Border Crossing, was published by NFSPS in spring 2018. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Gyroscope Review, Quiddity, High Plains Literary Review, Juked, Sugar House Review, City Works, Kestrel, San Pedro River Review, Borderlands: Texas Literary Review, Louisiana Review, Askew, Poetry International, Freshwater and elsewhere. She has won awards from Poetry International, the Women’s National Book Association and the CNY chapter of the National League of American Pen Women. She earned an MFA from George Mason University.