Dandelion Seeds

April 20, 2019


Dandelion Seeds

by Kristin Ryan


Everything was sharp.
Colors and sounds,
jutting of bone through
the tug of chaos in her chest.

Everything was falling.
Hair from her scalp,
bruised knee caps in front of toilets,
apple and blood into the bowl.

Everything was heavy.
Shadows on the bedroom wall,
heart pressing into ribcage,
the weight of a child’s lie.






Kristin Ryan is a poet working towards healing, and full sleeves of tattoos. She is a recipient of the Nancy D. Hargrove Editor's Prize in Poetry, was listed as a Write Bloody Finalist, and has been nominated for Best New Poets. Her poems have been featured in Glass, Jabberwock Review, Milk and Beans, among others. She holds an MFA from Ashland University and works in the mental health field. She tweets @kristinwrites


Share on Facebook
Share on Twitter
Please reload

Featured Posts

The Arc of the Moral Universe is Long and Bends Toward Conflation

April 20, 2020

Please reload

Recent Posts

November 24, 2019

November 24, 2019

Please reload

Please reload

Search By Tags
Please reload

  • Facebook Social Icon
  • Twitter Social Icon
  • Instagram Social Icon

Copyright © 2020 Rhythm & Bones. All Rights Reserved.