Gone Lawn
a journal of word-things
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Gone Lawn 47
winter solstice, 2022

Featured artwork, Streaming, by Claire Lawrence

New Works

Lauren Brazeal Garza

Interview with a Voice Within an Abandoned Adult Care Facility (Fair Park, Dallas)
From the files of the EVP Transcriber, session #138

"Colleen with no eyes hears voices too             cut from an addict's womb blind with a body the size of a foot her foster mom loved her ‘till the incident             then she's lived in homes like ours             Colleen with her short cropped hair and her round cheekbones like ripe plums always slides the halls in soft pink slippers             she's bigger now             my cane thumps heavy and thick as a femur             but hers pats the walls             gentle as ballerina antennae
she hears voices just like you             they made her stab her sister in the hands and lived here with all of us until the fire             we find corners of our own to talk impossible things             I tell her about color and light             she describes the sound of blood whooshing and the roiling smell of rain two days off             Happiness smells like lemons      she says             but fear has the best fragrance sweet    sweet             like candied almonds"

Lauren Brazeal Garza is a queer, disabled writer and Ph.D. candidate in literature at the University of Texas at Dallas. Her published poetry collections include Gutter (YesYes Books, 2018), which chronicles her homelessness as a teenager. She has also published three chapbooks, including Santa Muerte Santa Muerte: I was Here Release Me, forthcoming from Tram Editions in 2023. Her work has appeared in Poetry Northwest, Waxwing and Verse Daily, among many other journals. She splits her time between Dallas and remote East Texas and can be found haunting her website at lbrazealgarza.com