by Bekah Steimel

Nature fucked me
Nurture forgot me
So sanity laughed in my face
and headed for higher ground
Now I’m the one seeking elevation
The mountain top is always moving
and the fog is forever shifting
I keep losing my way
if there even is a way
to be found and recognized
My path is not cleanly cut
and manicured
There is no need
to shield my eyes
from the blinding yellow brick road
I watch them walk with a purpose
while I crawl in confusion.

Bekah Steimel lives in St. Louis, Missouri and is working on a first collection of poetry, chronicling one lesbian’s struggles with addiction, fidelity, mental illness, and mortality. Her poetry has appeared in publications such as Clutching at Straws, Gloom Cupboard, Gutter Eloquence, Sinister Wisdom and Subterranean Quarterly. Visit