[S: if you’re up]
excerpted from Without Them I Am Still A Mother



S: if you’re up can we talk

J: about last night sorry but i don’t think we should test that door again 

X: vchat in 10?

X: heating up mac n cheese

X: wish you were eating with me

J: ever since we broke up i’m so horny

S: when we talk i want to die

A: do you ever think about how

S: i want to die

A: we want to get the most pleasure out of life in the most convenient way

S: woooooow deep

M: how you be these days?

S: sorrrry kind of drunk but just admit whenever we’re together we have crazy chemistry

A: do you remember eating meat

S: i think it’s ok to be tender



I bring a blade to my neck                               I dream of sucking on the ear of X                               in reconciliation
whispering you missed me                   or you tried to take me                    with the skin intact                 or I offered
myself up unharmed                                 I brought chocolate pudding to my bed                           prepared my body
to be licked & spread                       X tried to take me                        or I begged                              his X would never
fit for the skin was indestructable                          filled                          with cotton which my mother would extract
X left                            me with the skin intact                    tangled up around her thumb                            my mother
would detangle me                           this woman ache                       I am allowed to keep                     the cotton plug
emerged unclean                             we screamed                             we mourned my child                                the space
that X did not create                          for he does not return                             I am displaced                            nothing
has been born                            for like the moon                               for like my skin                           when it has torn 


A puts me in my place                     swathes my butt in scented cream                      still I leave                    my blood
across his sheets                        the puddle wet                            the other woman wet                       across his sheets
an hour after I have left                                   I smell                                my children                                 on her thighs
I'm warning you                                                     release my almost-child                                                   yes she's died
but she is mine                                    like something died                             with A                               but it's still mine
like I have seen the face                           of J encroach                           in doggy-style                        my other woman
is a moat                             around my cunt                           A's other woman                        wears my menstrual coat
A will never                               put me in my place                           he loves me so he stays                                   I stay


M I'm sorry                         you are indistinct                    an every-cock                       housed in True Religion Jeans
you called them titties                          took me mangled                         I woke up with my mouth inside your jeans
I woke up pissing on your floor                             I scrubbed the stain on both knees                                  my mouth
a fat moon                                   I don't have much to say                                           I've already given you my mouth
where was pussy                            of my latent dreams                            please leave                               I am a cavern 
only for myself                                 my thirsty child                                 needs a room                                 inside of me


With J I'm not responsible                      for moisture                          everything we need                             J supplies
if you give a mouth a pussy                              no one's dry                           at this point in your life                       this
isn't right                         I write a lousy poem                      out of spite                       the night we see a yellow moon
I write an awful note & hide                               the note inside my drawer                                 I swallow Xanax 2mg
I message A expressing love                                I message J expressing thirst                                  I don't remember
who I heard from first                                 congratulations I am queer                                      blessings I can stretch
an orifice to see what fits                                    all the meat is sour                                all my tongues are tendrilous 

[S arrives in disarray]
excerpted from Without Them I Am Still A Mother


S arrives in disarray S arrives sentimental with illusions letters churning in her head this would not

ordinarily concern yes we all carry burdens of our negativity the cock that couldn’t penetrate a

mangled hole taste aversion to an inexpensive spirit such as Sailor Jerry’s Silver Rum which

scorched the patient’s throat provoked the violent disavowal of her bra before her peers who

whispered on the architecture of her tits S this would not ordinarily confuse except for your refusal

to believe in a redemptive future[1] demonstrated by a rapid increase in your sleep demonstrated by your

nightly intake of Xanax 2mg formerly known as Xanax 1mg S we found the notes beside your

bed which read you could do it & not tell a soul or I want to die & owe nothing to the world except the people I

still owe yes there was the evening everybody left your home you stripped alone you weeped you

husk of corn you gripped your phone documenting drunk on video I feel suicidal when they go we

understand surrender is an easy sounding quest especially when you are tired especially when

everyone has left this is why we are prescribing you a child this is why upon entering this office

you were fertilized yes when we mentioned an interest in cleanliness swabbed your body through

with sterilizing goo we launched a quiet sperm up into you the details unimportant we are most

concerned with treatment S although you dream of death we do not believe that you will kill

your child we maintain the sacrament of the unknown its spongy arms body that has not yet

gone letter you have not yet chose if we support any construct it’s the future understand the

scientific drive to last understand we might survive is the best we can offer in this circumstance

[1] Italicized phrases that are not dialogue are excerpted from Lee Edelman's No Future

[Phenomenology of]
excerpted from Without Them I Am Still A Mother


Phenomenology of I’m in hiding

Phenomenology of man at Mississippi bar calls me dyke & I feel seen

Phenomenology of I am trying to dissociate my queerness from my infidelity

Phenomenology of no one cares

Phenomenology of armpit hair

My friends say I look phenomenal

Phenomenology of yes I do

My mother wants to shave me secretly at night but sorry I am a phenomenon

Phenomenology of I have always been a liar

Phenomenology of accountability

I tasted pussy & it was phenomenal

I am part of a phenomenon but also I’m alone

Phenomenology of without them I’m immaculate

Phenomenology of I have given birth behind a closet door

Phenomenology of I have given birth without them

To be exited instead of entered is my favorite phenomenon




X: does it feel like there’s inertia to the moods

J: like any animal you seek out comfort when you’re stressed

J: like any animal you’re ugly when in pain

J:  i studied crisis management

X: i studied hotel management

A: would you say you are in crisis 

M: i prefer

S: when i am sleeping 

M: your pussy shaved

S: i’ll prune the leaves with shears

S: i’ll lick my membrane smooth 

S: i’ll suck the moisture from a lake

S: i’m an animal for you 

vaginal dryness benzodiazepines / Xanax sleep past noon / suicidal thoughts which may not qualify as suicidal thoughts genetic? / White Plains Hospital reviews / parent-infant theory Winnicott / therapists Connecticut / Xanax anorgasmia / Xanax sleep paralysis / seven forms of non-monogamy / VICE guide to eating pussy like a queen / normal that I want to kill myself but never would? / White Plains Hospital Emergency / aloe vera lube / shea butter lube / benzo use genetic? / how does moss reproduce / hours Luso Taxi / therapists mild depression & anxiety / trauma fear of masturbation / trauma drug abuse / White Plains Hospital Inpatient Services / boundaries open relationship / Kinsey score Buzzfeed quiz / Xanax pregnant dangerous / trauma I don’t wanna live / baby names No / baby names Yes / if moisture permits

When Falling Her Cunt Emits A Sharp Thud

Sarah was born a closed system. An extra membrane blanketed her hymen. Tampons would get 

stuck inside the skin which unraveled as a wishbone shaped string. Her mother spread her to 

extract the saturated cotton. She could not have sex. When finally she had it surgically removed 

the nurses fed her nothing but a pale roll. Sarah avoids large meals. She would like to be small 

but vicious. Playful but swallows you whole. Sarah doesn’t play with anybody’s cunt. She has 

sucked on six or seven cocks. Her lover understands her wet desire & is trying to forgive. She will 

weep when eventually the dick withdraws. Sarah is a big whiner. Sarah is a hypersexual. Sarah 

hears she’s queer & silently agrees. Sarah is a dyke. Sarah is a fake. Sarah needs to dig deeper in 

her work. It’s not enough to lift her skirt. Please don’t teach her any lessons. Sarah wants to fall 

into a river (hers or someone else’s cunt). In the future she imagines kissing children in a house 

with cacti she forgets to tend. That is where the future starts & ends. Sarah loves perpetual 

rebirth. She eats small frequent meals & shits constantly. She hates whatever’s sitting in her gut. 

The pussy won’t allow itself to be possessed. You cannot suspend the pussy in a jar. Sarah would 

not mind being stretched nonviolently. A gentle spreading all her loved ones entering. Sarah was 

reborn Sarah is an open system Sarah wants to slurp the absence from her pu— from her va— 

from her c-c-cu—

Sarah Sgro lives in Oxford, Mississippi. Currently, she serves as Poetry Editor for the Yalobusha Review, co-hosts the Broken English Reading Series, and reads poetry submissions for Muzzle. She is from New York and previously worked as an editorial assistant for Guernica. Her poetry appears or is forthcoming in Cloud Rodeo, Tagvverk, Muzzle, TYPO, glitterMOB, Horse Less Review, Deluge, and other journals. Her website is