Julie Whitehead: Poetry: April 2020

Southern Legitimacy Statement:

Born and raised in Mississippi and never lived anywhere else.

Bipolar Poetry


Every guy I write is you.
I type your name and delete it,
type and delete and type and delete.
(Google is my only confidante)

You’re in my brain imprinted
just like a flame that
nothing can put out
(serotonins, dopamine, gabapentin, nothing)

Take a Walk

Let’s get to know each other
in a very feral way
as I step into
my high-heeled shoes
to waltz you off a cliff.

Because I know how you like it
when I do something dangerous.

Long After the Ball

Forced to wear the dainty
glass slippers
long after the cracks
began to show.

The delicate fingers curl around
the broken edges that glitter
as she forces them deep
into the skin of her wrist–

A nation may mourn.
But no longer does she leave
a trail of blood while
walking to the royal bedroom.