Cree N. Pettaway

Stories from Cree N. Pettaway

Sunday, December 13th, 2015

It's the fact that he claims to know me

in that way that bothers me.

That he pretends to know the exact spot my back begins to curve,

the moles on the backs of my thighs,

and that scar from my last surgery,

that extends the length of my breasts.

 

Saturday, May 2nd, 2015

To you my former betrothed,

I hope that this letter finds you well.

And that despite the movements and roughness

Of the sea it reaches you.

Perhaps you wonder what has prompted me

To write you,

Or perhaps you suspected such.

I must be honest and say I myself am not certain.

It was just last week Jennie asked of you

Saturday, April 27th, 2013

In Due Time

More than once I’ve been told that on the list of your priorities I come a close third to that damn job and that old Chevy you’ll never fix.

Perhaps I’ll be on the front burner one day

Perhaps the whistles of the wind won’t be the only sweet nothings I hear

The bed sheets won’t be the only thing beside me

Barren woman cold and scorned

Perhaps that won’t be me.

I suppose I could confront you

But we both know you’ve never been one to want to be called out on your shit.

Where’s my cut?

I’ve put in my due time

But so quickly I forget

What’s yours isn’t mine.