Close Menu
  • Home
    • About
    • Masthead
    • Links
  • MER Journal
    • Latest Issue
    • Back Issues
    • Subscribe to MER!
  • MER ONLINE
    • MER Quarterly
    • MER Literary Folios
    • Poetry
    • Fiction
    • Creative Prose
    • Essay
    • Craft
    • Interviews
    • Book Reviews
      • Bookshelf
    • Authors’ Notes
    • Art Gallery
      • Special – Hybrids
  • News & Events
    • News
    • Poem of the Month
    • Events
      • MER 18 Virtual Reading – Voices From HOME
    • Currents
      • Announcements
      • Highlights
  • Shop
    • All Issues
    • One Year Subscription
    • Two Year Subscription
  • Submit
Facebook X (Twitter) Instagram
MER – Mom Egg Review
Facebook X (Twitter) Instagram YouTube Tumblr Threads
  • Home
    • About
    • Masthead
    • Links
  • MER Journal
    • Latest Issue
    • Back Issues
    • Subscribe to MER!
  • MER ONLINE
    • MER Quarterly
    • MER Literary Folios
    • Poetry
    • Fiction
    • Creative Prose
    • Essay
    • Craft
    • Interviews
    • Book Reviews
      • Bookshelf
    • Authors’ Notes
    • Art Gallery
      • Special – Hybrids
  • News & Events
    • News
    • Poem of the Month
    • Events
      • MER 18 Virtual Reading – Voices From HOME
    • Currents
      • Announcements
      • Highlights
  • Shop
    • All Issues
    • One Year Subscription
    • Two Year Subscription
  • Submit
NEWSLETTER
MER – Mom Egg Review
You are at:Home » N.F. Kimball

N.F. Kimball

0
By Mom Egg Review on March 13, 2022 Poetry

N.F. Kimball

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”

THE BURIAL

I had a dream once, of my life standing still. I saw
behind closed eyes the Earth forgiving me, the parts
of my being I must bury; the nautilus of sound. In this
dream I had no body. I had no neck, I had no voice.
Wool cloaked the part of my country where I sat, my
placenta & my flower. I became blurry, my errors were
sisters with the open field. And then – how I existed did not
matter. I salvage the blue of the sunflower, I ravage these
desires I have. I pick myself up like- I have no choice.
I find a place my soles are the same as the Earth. The
soil is kind, its seeds are warm. I embrace all the things
I am to be and I release all of the things I can’t. The parts
I am to bury join me, to make people a brief chasm to
retrograde past; enrapture, we enjoy undressing.

 


N.F. Kimball is a Jewish poet, mother, and student. She is just beginning her publishing and submitting journey, and has been published in multiple school anthologies. She loves being creative and spreading joy to those around her. She is passionate about creating art, and is excited to grow as a writer.

Share. Facebook Twitter Pinterest LinkedIn Tumblr Email
Previous ArticleChrissy Martin
Next Article Jessica Cuello

Comments are closed.

May 1, 2026

Poem of the Month – May 2026

April 18, 2026

At the Gate: Uncollected Poems 1987-2010 by Lucille Clifton

April 15, 2026

Sometimes an Island By Ellen Meeropol

April 15, 2026

Should Have Told You Sooner by Jane Ward

April 15, 2026

MER Bookshelf – April 2026

April 13, 2026

Author Spotlight – Megan Merchant

April 12, 2026

Walking with Beth by Merilyn Simonds

April 12, 2026

Exhibitionist by Shari Caplan

April 12, 2026

Day Care by Nora Lange

April 12, 2026

Dear Letters in the Red Box by Sarah Stern

Facebook X (Twitter) Instagram YouTube Tumblr Threads
  • About
  • Advertise
  • Submit
  • Contact
MER - Mom Egg Review
PO Box 9037, Bardonia, NY 10954
Contact [email protected]

Copyright © 2025 MER and Mom Egg Review

Type above and press Enter to search. Press Esc to cancel.