Sarah Nichols

I’ll Be Your Mirror
Another woman with my name
wrote this poem.
She knows things. Where I
keep the bodies. The
hearts in jars, bloated with
poison.
She’s made of cardboard. Old
newspaper. She reminds me of
all the times I tried to check out,
and failed.
She says:
I’m the real you. Everything
you have is mine.
Don’t forget.
**
Source: King, Stephen. The Shining. New York: Signet, 1977. Print.

Like a Woman in a Shirley Jackson Novel
Like a woman in a Shirley Jackson novel,
I made up an imaginary friend and
disappeared.
Like a woman in a Shirley Jackson novel
I have too many headaches. Too many
personalities.
(Doctors always make things into
syndromes).
Like a woman in a Shirley Jackson novel,
I’m already a
haunted house
**
Source: King, Stephen. The Shining. New York: Signet, 1977. Print.

Local Hole Unraveling
The dark place inside me
has lousy TV.
Fields of static snow on
black and white
telling me
there’s nothing to see. Distract
yourself from the
it’s all over.
Those bad signals saying
Why are you here ?
Are you still afraid ?
Keep it simple:
you can’t wait win.
**
Source: King, Stephen. The Shining. New York: Signet, 1977. Print.

Sarah Nichols lives and writes in Connecticut. She is the author of four chapbooks, including Dreamland for Keeps (forthcoming, Porkbelly Press, 2018) and She May Be a Saint (Hermeneutic Chaos Press, 2016). She is also a co-editor of Thank You for Swallowing, an online journal of feminist protest poetry. Her work has also appeared in Queen of Cups, Rogue Agent, and The RS 500.