Thursday, April 18, 2013

Things you can't do with a husband

Tonight.
 
I read at the launch of the Spring Semester literary journal.
 
I read well.
 
My submission of one Vegan Princess poem came back from the editor. It was affixed to three pages of notes including very clean, fair revisions from a particular faculty member whom I'd say is one of three leading poets from the Jell-O State.
 
My husband called this poem "pornography".
 
I hate to say it, but this baby's ready to submit nationally. And oh, I am going to submit. Someone's going to eat her up.
 
I am one tickled rutabaga.

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