© 2019 by S. M. Pruis

S. M. PRUIS

Poet &  Editor

Portrait by Stevie Shao

 

About S. M.

S. M. Pruis is an outdoorsy poet-person based in Flagstaff, Arizona.

 

Their writing has been featured in ArtWay, Image, The Ocotillo Review, & OUT/CAST, among other publications. A personal essay appeared in the latest issue of Gigantic Sequins.

Pruis previously worked as the Social Media Coordinator for Image journal &, after serving as the Assistant Project Coordinator for Keeping the Faith - the Prison Project (an arts therapy program for incarcerated women), they designed & edited KTF's 2018 Anthology.

In the spring of 2019, Pruis graduated from Seattle Pacific University with a degree in creative writing & they are now attending Northern Arizona University as an MA candidate in anthropology, where they're also a research assistant for Feral Atlas, a digital humanities project on environmental anthropology.

 
 

Selected Poems

"Grief"

"Lightning"

"On the Dock Beside Him" & "Ghazal: Honeyed Lips"

"Dawn on the Lake Washington Shipping Canal"

&

"Hiking Deception Pass"

Driving While You Sleep

Rain swells over the windshield wipers, each tidal wave part

of a bead curtain that streaks the glass and blurs the night,

and I trace every rivulet to its end, floating up with each away

from the murky headlights and our loosely linked hands that rest,

limp, on your thigh. I drift free from my knot of veins, woven

like kelp, to the surface where I touch the empty sky for the first time

since we met (when your grey eyes submerged me like a prophecy,

an end-time flood that sweeps mountains and mingles orcas

with the evergreens we’re passing by).  Now the rain’s dark patter

echoes through space, overwhelming your sighs, those siren exhalations

that would anchor me beside you. So my care floats, unmoored,

on the surface of Love as I draw my hand from yours to adjust

the windshield wipers, so I can see the road.


 

Previously published in The Lingua Journal

Porous

Because the apricot pit pore scrub teaches me / that it is cleansing to tear the skin I do not like / and because Christ mocked the men unwilling to change and said / so cut off the hand that causes you to sin / when I do not like what my eyes see / I clutch the dessert spoon / that I should have thrown out with the Oreo ice cream and cottage cheese and celery / and I scoop / and the delivery is delicious / and I am delivered / and pain is a redemption that tastes like apricots / the because becoming a sweet pelt of vacancy / purity an emptiness ensured / by removal of the wrinkled brown core / a hollow leaking syrup / syrup prophesying the end / of imperfection / the end of seeing myself imperfect / the end of seeing / myself.

Previously published in The Lingua Journal

 

Contact Me

  • Facebook - Black Circle
  • Twitter - Black Circle
  • Instagram - Black Circle