First poem officially in print

It's not #ThrowbackThursday, but I have something from a few months ago to share. While I was living on Bainbridge Island, I went to the local bookstore, searching around for local poets' writing on the shelves. One of the books I pulled was an assortment of poems that had won the Poetry Corner's Contest sponsored by the Bainbridge Island Arts & Humanity Council.

After buying the book, reading it from cover to cover, I looked the competition up online and found that they celebrated National Poetry Month (April) by publishing the chosen poems, having a live reading, and posting the poems in the windows of businesses on the island for people to read as they passed by by.

The theme for 2015 was "Peace" and when I looked through my poems, I couldn't find anything that directly related to that topic. I tend to write about challenges and moments of dramatic impact. Even though nothing seemed to fit the theme, I submitted three poems, not expecting anything except a rejection letter.

Forgetting that I had even submitted the poems, I logged into my email one day at YES! and read the word "congratulations" and my stomach sunk. I had never been published before, and when I saw which poem had won, I got a little nervous.

The poem that they chose is called "Bruises, Blood, Dust" and it follows a mother and daughter struggling in an abusive home. The reason my stomach was in knots when I saw this poem had won was because many people write from their personal experiences and sometimes I do too, but the scenario in the poem is far from anything I've ever experienced. 

I can't remember what sparked this poem, but I can still clearly see the image of the home I created in my mind and distress that ran through my veins as I described what the characters were going through. All I know is I felt the need to write about this topic.

Although I was unable to attend the live reading from the poetry collection, I did order a copy of the book -- my first published poem. Kind of exciting.

My poem was displayed at the Bainbridge Island library

Published in print. So crazy.

Bruises, Blood, Dust

             by Kayla Schultz

It sounds like a band, drumming

to the beat of skin against skin,

bone against flesh. The thump, thump

thumping of her falling to the dirty kitchen tile,

scrubbed weekly, never clean.

she is inhaling, exhaling calmly,

walking away with dry cheeks, purpled

the color of grape lollipops.

Sticky red dribbling from her nose,

tickling like strawberry juice running

down swollen cheeks. Her daughter’s

tiny arm clings to Raggedy Anne,

healed with hand-sewn patches

in the shape of hearts to cover the gashes.

Rising from the tile, mother and daughter

walk hand in hand out the screen door,

You’ll never get away with this, he yells,

pounding his fists against the porch railing,

watching dust from the dirt road

envelop them until they disappear.