Poetry became a means of survival for Sue Reed Crouse after the death of her 20 year-old daughter Laura in 2008. Poetry came closest to deciphering the confusion and sorrow. Sue is a graduate of the Foreword Poetry Program at the Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis. She explores themes of grief, nature and relationships in her poems. Her work appears in many journals including Grey Sparrow, Damselfly Press, and Earth’s Daughters.
You’re sitting in the back of a squad car at midnight and you know the window is closed because everything on the other side is distorted by a film of dried spit, which likely came from the last guy in your place who couldn’t use his hands to fight, so he spat at the window and it was another thing… Read more →
You were born during an ice storm in Colorado, two years and one day after your sister. We moved to Arizona. You stayed small a long time and I wore you on my hip. I must not say I lost They tell me to say you are dead. When I took you and your sister to the supermarket, sad-eyed… Read more →