Published in print in issue #44 of Sand Hills, 2020

There was no awards show for me,

no posts of amber flesh squeezed into navy linen, navy spandex.

No drunken hurrah! with a whiskey bite,

no toppled stack of printed shirts- all fuzz and color.

I was a no-toothbrush girl

with all the other no-toothbrush boys.

A few little words to my mother and it was all Shakespeare-

Out, out, brief candle.

But there are no lights under the overpass, no beeswax either,

just stink of canned meat

just foil-glint and muddied-shoe

just pitter-patter from the blue.

There was no awards show for me,

no boundary-breaking sitcom with those hollow laughs, all robot and diaphragm,

ha ha ha.

There was no awards show for me.

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