Poetry By Terry Rae Hall

David Antis CC




Daddy Swore He Loved Us


He said goddamn the leak under the kitchen sink, the pipe wrench, the trap; goddamn little shit of a dog’s infernal bark next door. He said goddamn squirrel in the birdseed, goddamn mud on the rug, the shoe lace that knotted, the shoe lace that broke. Goddamn no hot water, no damn tissue on the roll. Father, would you damn a girl who could neither be seen nor heard?
Too much salt in the gravy, not enough salt in the gravy, goddamn pork chops not fit for a pig. The gas hike. The government. Goddamn Nixon. Vietnam. He said get off the highway you piece of shit car. Goddamn turnpike. You all shut up back there or— 

I play quietly with dolls in my closet. 
I practice piano at a neighbor’s house. 
I learn to go hungry.




Terry Rae Hall earned a bachelor’s degree in English from the College of William & Mary and a Master of Arts in Liberal Studies from Mary Washington College. Her poems appear in numerous journals, including Common Ground Review, Plainsongs, Cider Press Review, and Gyroscope. Her chapbook The Something We Make from Nothing was published by Seven Kitchens Press in February 2024 as part of its A.V. Christie Series. Her full-length book Neither Are Crows will be published in March 2026, as winner of the 2025 Laura Boss Foundation Narrative Poetry award.


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