Poetry by Heather Truett

                ​ stanze CC



The Girl Grew Deep
 
They drained the pond behind my home. 
They did not find my body. They found only  
turtle shells and cracked bird bones.
 
It was a dark dirt catacomb, 
a suburb's gaping mouth,
this once-a-pond behind my home.
 
I never drowned out here alone, 
was not murdered, dragged, and bound,  
with turtle shells and broken bones.
 
I spiked my fingers in the loam. 
Skin and nails drilled further down 
beneath the pond behind my home.
 
I weave tree roots into a throne. 
Upon my head I place a crown 
of turtle shell and hollow bone.
 
My Kingdom is one perfect poem
to hold this body I have found 
in the pond they drained behind my home 
of empty shells and my own bones.

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Heather Truett is an MFA candidate and an autistic author. Her debut novel, KISS AND REPEAT, released in 2021. She has published poetry and short fiction with Hawaii Pacific Review, Rust+Moth, and others. Heather also serves on staff for The Pinch.

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