Karen Corinne Herceg © 2015 • Privacy Policy




The truth is

this is a fearful place,

constant trembling

flanked with platitudes,

with magical thinking,

failure drowning in cocktails,

lust laughing in a sophomoric comedy

and smoke curling

the clouded forbidden air.

There’s a lot of leftover

hippie love

and broken philosophies.

We assent to camouflage,

a whimsical toast,

a sea of well wishing,

the rejuvenation of a spa weekend.

Before the dusk of empty bottles,

pill prompted memories,

a closing door,

we consider praying again,

measures of redemption

kicking us back onto the cross,

always just shy of resurrection.



First published in THE WRITING DISORDER Summer 2015


Published in CHRONOGRAM Fall 2015