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Heather Derr-Smith

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Heather Derr-Smith

Heather Derr-Smith was born in Dallas, Texas, in 1971 and spent most of her childhood in Fredericksburg, Virginia. She received a BA from the University of Virginia and an MFA from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. She is the author of Tongue Screw (Sparkwheel Press, 2016), The Bride Minaret (University of Akron Press, 2008), and Each End of the World (Main Street Rag Press, 2005).

by this poet

poem

The hunters drove through town doing eighty,
the bodies of wolves tied in cruciform
to the hoods of their trucks.

The Pink Lady Slippers in the woods
hung like carcasses on hooks and the lights of ranches
twinkled in the valley below. We could hear,
with a kind of clairaudience, the

poem

Your postcard said, Nothing like a little disaster to sort things out.

Blueprints, sketches, such perfect houses in the photograph on the front,
all the lines true and in harmony. I took it with me like a paper

2
poem

Birds pulse above the blood-black line of horizon.
I walk out through the sliding glass door into the backyard,

hoarfrost on the fallen leaves like thrush on a baby’s tongue.

Over the chain-link fence, three bald eagles fight for their kill
on the train tracks. My brother writes a postcard