The Sundress Academy for the Arts is excited to present “Writing Without Words: On Gesture,” a workshop led by Stacey Balkun on Wednesday, May 13th from 6:00-7:30 PM EST. This event will be held over Zoom. Participants can access the event at tiny.utk.edu/sundress (password: SAFTA).
As writers, our medium is words: written or spoken; mumbled or sung. We share language with other genres—like music and theatre—but what other tools do these media have in conjunction with words, and how can we learn from them? In this generative workshop, we will expand our understanding of our art form and craft our own poetry or short prose pieces that are driven by more-than-words.
Drawing inspiration from instrumental songs, mime acts, and experimental poetry, we will devote the majority of our session to studying gesture: a vital tool for every art form. We will consider artistic examples ranging from the band Daikaiju to the painter Kay Sage as we engage in conversation and participate in low-stakes, wordless activities designed to spark our imaginations, before quietly writing with the guidance of a prompt, with an opportunity to share.
While there is no fee to participate in this workshop, those who are able and appreciative may make donations directly to Stacey Balkun via Venmo or Paypal at staceymbalkun@gmail.com
Stacey Balkun is the author of Sweetbitter and co-editor of Fiolet & Wing. Her creative and critical work has appeared in Attached to the Living World, Best New Poets, Mississippi Review, and several other volumes. Stacey holds a PhD in Literature from the University of Mississippi, Oxford, where she was awarded the Holdich Scholar Award, and an MFA in Poetry from Fresno State. She has been granted fellowships and grants from the Modern Language Association, PEN America, and the Helene Wurlitzer Foundation in support of her writing. Stacey teaches online for The Poetry Barn and the University of New Orleans.
The Sundress Academy for the Arts is excited to present Poetry Xfit hosted by Layla Lenhardt. This generative workshop event will take place on Sunday, May 31st, from 2 to 4 pm EST via Zoom. Join us at the link tiny.utk.edu/sundress with the password “safta”.
Poetry Xfit isn’t about throwing tires or heavy ropes, but the idea of confusing our muscles is the same. You will receive ideas, guidelines, and more as part of this generative workshop series in order to complete three poems in two hours. A new set of prompts will be provided after the writers have written collaboratively for thirty minutes. The goal is to create material that can be later modified and transformed into artwork rather than producing flawless final versions. The event is open to prose authors as well!
The theme for May’s Poetry Xfit is “Travel.” You may be writing in your home or other confined space, but here is an invitation to let your mind wander and visit places beyond the room you’re in. Join us as we meander through the spaces, times, and locations we have been to or want to explore through writing.
Layla Lenhardt is an American poet currently based out of Indianapolis. She is the author of “Mother Tongue” (Main Street Rag 2023). She earned her undergrad from Washington & Jefferson college and has an MFA in progress at IU. Professionally, she is a gemologist.
This selection, chosen by Guest Editor Claudia Santos, is from Affidavit by Starr Davis (Hanging Loose Press 2026).
ZOOM COURT
and even though it is virtual, i still cringe
the first time seeing my abuser’s face since i left him 5 months ago
he is suing me for our pound a flesh, a baby i never thought i would have
he is wearing the shirt i bought him for our maternity photoshoot.
he is confident. i am not.
he knows this. so, i already know i have lost.
i am miles away from him sitting in an apartment with pink walls. i hate pink.
but it made the whole house feel like a nursery
secret: i wanted the house to swaddle me
halfway across the country in the middle of the winter with a newborn
back to the women who know me by my scent
court isn’t a new word for us.
my mama says, “back in my day, a man would just let you leave.”
she is speaking of my father.
when i tell them i have been served and must attend, not in- person but via zoom court on video, they all laugh and ask me if i am joking. in- person
“this will be over in 5 minutes,” a lawyer assures me.
i place a sticky-note over his face on my laptop screen.
the gallery grid keeps shifting as people leave the virtual courtroom as cases are dismissed. this will be me soon, i think to myself.
my little human is with someone safe, somewhere away from me and our nursery home.
the lawyer encourages me that i am doing this for her.
five months postpartum, i am still squishy around my abdomen and wet around the nipple.
courts usually rule in favor of mothers, all kinds of people tell me.
he is younger than me, my abuser.
just a boy, my grandmother likes to remind me.
what would the difference be, if i were dealing with a man?
a white woman judge confirms sex is just a construct.
she places my body and all things belonging under the jurisdiction of a purple moon.
the sticky- note falls off.
i see myself on the screen, crying beside him.
Starr Davis (she/her) is a poet and essayist whose work has appeared in The Kenyon Review, Academy of American Poet’s Poem-a-Day, and The Rumpus. She was the 2024 Writing Freedom Fellow with Haymarket Books and the Mellon Foundation.
Claudia Santos (she/her) is a Mexican reader and writer. She received the PECDA Colima 2024 writing grant for her non-fiction work and was a Sophia-FILCO Young Writers 2025 finalist for her poetry work. She is currently pursuing an MA in Children’s Literature as a EMJM scholarship recipient.
I grew up in the South. I’m sure you can imagine how that experience went for a young, autistic, trans man. My only escape was reading and my only form of expression was writing. Despite the love and acceptance I got from my mom, I struggled to form attachments to anyone other than fictional characters. By high school, I felt like my entire personality was a facade, an amalgamation of the people around me and the traits deemed “acceptable” by society. I couldn’t openly express myself and that repression started getting me into trouble.
My mind wandered and I found myself struggling to focus in class, too worried about what might happen if I ever dropped the mask. I stopped reading and writing. My grades plummeted and many of my teachers said I’d be lucky to graduate high school. They were almost right. I’d just barely finished the first three years of high school, passing classes by the skin of my teeth. Spring semester of my senior year, I was already flunking two classes. That was when COVID hit. All of the senior teachers bumped everyone’s grades up to passing and promised they wouldn’t go back down. They told us if we wanted better grades, we could attend Zoom classes during lockdown to improve them. I, however, was so burnt out by that point that the thought of doing so gave me panic attacks. Graduation rolled around and I was in the bottom of my class. I still graduated though!
After high school, I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Everyone told me to “go to college” and “get a degree” and “do something meaningful with my life.” But I’d barely made it through high school and I couldn’t stand the thought of putting myself through that again. I worked a handful of dead-end jobs, got some tattoos, skated through life doing almost nothing. In 2021, I decided to apply to Cosmetology School. It was fun. It gave me something productive to fill my endless days. That experience made me fall in love with learning again.
I moved out of Oklahoma and up to Virginia with my parents in 2024 and started community college. I fell in love with writing again. I started writing more poetry, getting published in The Bloomin’ Onion and Wingless Dreamer. I graduated from community college in a year and transferred to a university, from which I will graduate at the end of 2026. My biggest dream in life is to write something that would make high school me feel seen and safe.
Greyson Finch (he/him) is a poet from Oklahoma. Throughout his life, he’s struggled with his mental health and childhood trauma while also growing up queer in the South. He uses that to write pieces that speak to the soul. Pieces that people like him can read to know they’re not alone. He’s been published in The Bloomin’ Onion and Wingless Dreamer. He can be found on twitter at @Greyson_Finch77 and Instagram at @greysonfinchwrites
This selection, chosen by Guest Editor Claudia Santos, is from Affidavit by Starr Davis (Hanging Loose Press 2026).
AFFIDAVIT I
I CONFIRM I have never known any fathers. I do not know this one. Our union, like permission when it is not given, or communion when it is not blessed, was the closest I had come to trusting. The man I called father had fathered me from prison. His apostolic letters ministered to a place inside me that was animal, and wild. When you are Black you want to know what kind of slave your ancestors became. Conquerors or complacent. Killers or just killed. He told me nothing, just a few lines to a story, like a page torn out from an old book. Once he was released, no longer my pastor on paper, he gave me his eyes and then a number he never answered. He has never fathered again. We remain in good counsel as good friends, both of us being so experienced at abandonment the common bread we break is stale.
THUS, my child knows no father, the way in which my inner child knows no authority, the way in which the petitioner knows no love, the way in which the dead know no place, or a slave knows no name, or these eyes know no stars, or my spirit knows no truth outside the sun or moon being constant and everything else everchanging. And like Ishmael, who had never known his father outside of rose milk and his single mother’s prayer, my child will too, come to know an inheritance that only comes with a fatherless blessing.
I CERTIFY the last text received from the petitioner was in blood. The last child support payment was enough for a glass of wine. The last father I had was a false prophet. I am afraid of a second coming.
Starr Davis (she/her) is a poet and essayist whose work has appeared in The Kenyon Review, Academy of American Poet’s Poem-a-Day, and The Rumpus. She was the 2024 Writing Freedom Fellow with Haymarket Books and the Mellon Foundation.
Claudia Santos (she/her) is a Mexican reader and writer. She received the PECDA Colima 2024 writing grant for her non-fiction work and was a Sophia-FILCO Young Writers 2025 finalist for her poetry work. She is currently pursuing an MA in Children’s Literature as a EMJM scholarship recipient.
When looking to get out of your head, most people do drugs. Smoking, drinking, whatever the preferred method, substances are a surefire way to escape the impending doom of our reality. As I don’t do drugs or drink–on principle, because of my autoimmune diseases, and because it simply doesn’t get me out of my head–I turn to books. I found this escape at an early age, and just like a drug, I became addicted quickly. I was a user. Still am. But I like to justify my vice with the fact that it’s not a vice at all. Sure maybe the desire to escape reality through fiction does not come from the healthiest most grounded version of Abby that probably exists somewhere. But, hey, who’s going to stop me from reading? With this in mind, I tend to gravitate towards the furthest from reality fiction that I can get my hands on. And quite frankly, sometimes the “worse” it is, the better! By “worse” I don’t necessarily mean poorly written. I more so mean a “zero brain power necessary” type of book. Anyway, how could you find a good book from a bad one if you have nothing to compare it to? Now I must clarify, this brainless descriptor is in no way an insult to the books or authors. In fact, I am using this description to show that as silly as a book may be, reading is reading and there is always value in that.
Thus, I thought very long and hard about what books I should tell people are my favorite, as this reflects directly who I am, perhaps what I stand for, at least what I think about. Maybe I am overthinking it. Maybe most people don’t think twice about their coworker’s latest read. The world isn’t a vile judgmental dark place, and I, of course, have never thought less about someone from their reading choice! I’m lying. I have and will continue to judge people whose favorite authors are the worst person you’ve ever heard of. I definitely don’t encourage consuming books from unethical, immoral, or plain horrible people. Doing your research is incredibly important and consuming a “zero brain power” book doesn’t mean leaving all your standards at the first turn of the cover page.
So here are some of my favorites. Books I have thought nothing of while reading, thought about everything years after reading, and books that now have permanent places on my skin. My favorite go to when I’m looking to entertain my maladaptive-daydreaming-tendencies is The Once Upon a Broken Heart series. Somehow I have left the actual first book back at my Mom’s, so pictured is the third and final book, also my favorite, that I have reread an embarrassing amount of times. I usually pick this up first thing after a particularly long semester when I’m ready to pretend I’m a girl discovering romantasy for the first time. It’s magical, it’s got vampires, it’s got a female hero who embraces being feminine with a slow burn enemies to lovers. What more could middle school Abby ask for?
On the gothic side of the romantasy genre, my shameless indulgence of the brainless book persuasion led me to The Shepherd King duology– a must read. I splurged on the gorgeous special edition hardcovers and seriously would pay to read this for the first time again. Another enemies to lovers (we have a theme here), the story follows Elspeth, a young woman who finds herself working with the royals she has been trying to avoid to rid their kingdom of a mysterious dark magic that is taking over their world. Navigating a deadly fog and staying under the noses of the royals she loathes, she not only is trying to save her loved ones, but also herself from the ever present Nightmare, an entity that lives in her head. This series is not as “zero brain power” as others, but it serves no higher purpose than being fun.
Indulging in your guilty pleasures is a necessary part of enjoying reading, but so is reading for a new perspective. No one should be pompous about their academic reads, but we all should have them. It’s all about finding the balance. I’m a libra so that’s basically my entire thing. Therefore, I can’t go on about “useless” books without talking about one incredibly useful, and deeply emotional read. I could go on about The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros for a very long time. Her story telling through vignettes has inspired me more than several other books combined. Exploring coming of age, poverty, and desiring to be anywhere but where you are through a Chicana girl growing up in lower class Chicago, Cisneros captivates every emotion you could ever feel. This book spoke to my own childhood in a way I could never quite articulate myself. I will forever be thankful for that.
In the category of books I haven’t stopped thinking about, My Year of Rest and Relaxation had to make an appearance. I wouldn’t describe this book as one I really enjoyed reading. I think it’s hard to enjoy a book so deeply rooted in the exploration of grief. Yet I can’t seem to put it out of my mind that there’s a piece of me in these unlikeable characters. I felt the grief of the main character as though it was my own, and I think it helped me reflect on the parts of myself I would rather ignore. My Year of Rest and Relaxation is not just a book to me, but a personal state of existence I have been in and successfully gotten myself out of. I recommend to anyone who has experienced life altering sadness, especially the selfish kind. We all should be selfish sometimes, and then we must come out of it.
I could not discuss my favorite books without mentioning my favorite author of all time, Kate DiCamillo. She is a children’s author, but to me, her prose is poetry the way symbolism ebbs and flows. Depth seeps from the pages, and I already plan to tattoo more of the characters from her books in the future. I have The Tiger Rising girl riding a tiger on my arm and have a spot on my knee dedicated to Edward Tulane. A brief summary cannot captivate how much her work means to me. It started when my Mom would read us these books to fall asleep and I would rest to the sound of her voice filled with these words. I hope someday I can have the effect on others that these stories have on me.
The list of books on my TBR is ever growing and far outnumbers the list of books I have actually read. Thus my bookshelf at my current place is tiny and full of mainly what I have yet to read, not a collection of all of the ones I own. Despite its limited space, I have places for all of these books there. Even the “zero brain power ones”. Especially those ones. Everyone should read something useless, because no book ever really is. Therefore I say, do not do drugs! Read instead!
Abigail Palmer (she/her) is a current English student at the University of Tennessee. Born in the north but raised in the south, she has always had a place in the in-between of things. In between reader and writer, student and teacher, chronically ill and healthy–she is seeking to defy such labels to become whoever, wherever, however she desires to be. That currently looks like a preschool teacher, beloved (of course) daughter, adored (obviously) girlfriend, up-and-coming cat mom, and a forever nominee of the “Super Opinionated” award. If she’s not incessantly analyzing every piece of media she consumes, she’s probably intellectualizing her feelings while making ultra specific playlists that no one can relate to but her! You can find her on Instagram @zer0cooll.
Upon the release of her craft chap essay, An Interview with Fear, author Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo spoke with Sundress Publications editorial intern Rachel Bulman on political memory, the difference between monuments and memorials, the sensitive nature of writing about others’ grief, and what it means to write in community with those you love.
Rachel Bulman: How did you decide the structure of the text and the balance of chronology?
Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo: I was on residency at Jentel in Wyoming when I wrote this essay. Being in residency gave me many unobstructed hours to read and think, which allowed me space to excavate my memories differently and to expand beyond one experience in one place and one time. For example, I was reading Melissa Febos’ Body Work. In her essay, “A Big Shitty Party,” she writes, “When I think of narrative truth—the truth that lies beyond the verifiable facts of an event—I picture a prism, with as many facets as there are people affected. When a writer chooses to publish their version, the facet becomes the one visible beyond the scope of people involved… It is hideously unfair.” (95) While I was writing about a residency at Gettysburg National Military Park in Pennsylvania and the racism and war glorification I experienced there, Febos’ words encouraged me to think beyond Gettysburg to a story about a friend’s grief and Assistens Cemetery in Copenhagen. It also allowed me to ask my friend for permission to write about her, which I’d never done before.
RB: The reflections in this piece are not solely from time spent on your residency, so how do they reflect a wider experience of your life as a whole?
XJB: While composing this essay, what came to the surface was the connection of public places for memory and monument. Being a poet in residence at Gettysburg was a strange experience. It’s a battleground and cemetery. Over 50,000 people died over a three-day battle. I was living on hallowed ground, but it’s also a museum. While death changes and transforms all things, Gettysburg is insistent on not changing. That’s kind of what we’ve been facing as a nation. There are people desperate for change. It’s a matter of life and death, but the powers that be want to keep the status quo. While I was in Gettysburg, I felt a lot of fear and confusion. Being able to compare it to another public place of death and memorial helped me better understand why I was there in the first place. In the end, I’ve learned that I grow and change from the experience of knowing the women in my life, from honoring my ancestors, and from honoring the ancestors of my sisters. I’m grateful for the experience gifting me this new understanding of myself and the world.
RB: At what point in the writing process did you reach your conclusion on the purpose of facing fear; not just to understand but to overcome?
XJB: Writing is about process for me. I don’t know where a piece will go when I start it. I have an idea. I have something I want to write about—a lesson, an experience, a memory—but the why presents itself through the writing. I would have never made the connection between death and transformation, or the difference between monuments and memorials, if it weren’t for being in residency at Jentel and having all that time to read and think, and to try something new. It’s what I love about residencies. They let you be brave.
RB: Of the myriad themes and takeaways from this book, why did you decide to conclude on the transformational power of love?
XJB: It’s what I write about. It’s who I am, or who I want to be, at my core. I recently had a near-death experience (sounds dramatic, but true), and rereading this essay made me realize that my work, what I do, prepared me to meet this newest scary moment with some tools, as small as they were. I just hope I can help other people know that love is always there if they need it. There are so many scary things happening in our world, but what matters, I think, at least today, is how we meet the moment and stay open to what’s possible through care, comfort, and love.
RB: As is clear in the opening, you don’t shy away from political commentary in the text. Was there anything you chose to omit from the book, or anything you included but had reservations about? Why?
XJB: I’ve always been outspoken. I don’t know. I was a teen in the ‘90s, and everything I read and watched told me to be outspoken. It’s only recently that I’ve started to think more about how I speak about current events, especially in interviews like this, because interviews are perceived differently, and you don’t always know what parts will be used. But when it comes to my art, when it comes to crafting and composing, I will always be outspoken and say what I want to say in the most beautiful way I can.
RB: Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address is described as a reason you applied for the residency, but in what ways, if at all, did its contents and message influence this book, or you, as you were writing?
XJB: Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address was all I knew about Gettysburg when I first went. It’s a marker of my naiveté in the situation. Again, I grew up idolizing Lincoln, King, X. I loved John Lennon. I watched A Different World and The Wonder Years. Newsies was one of my favorite movies. I was either going to be a hippie or a union organizer. My senior year of high school, I was reading books about the Chicano Movement. My freshman year of college at San Francisco State, I attended my first police brutality rallies. I grew up thinking we all wanted a just world, but seeing what’s happened to our country in the last 10 years has been a great shock to my sixteen-year-old self. The Gettysburg Address is a symbol of that tragedy.
RB: You say “Monuments are men’s work. Memorializing, women’s.” Can you speak further to this end, and the gendered divide you observed during your residency?
XJB: Of course, this is a generalization, but it seems to me that patriarchies only care about keeping power, and often through intimidation. Monuments are not for remembering good works. Monuments are for keeping the populace in line. They are stone examples of “Big Brother,” if you will. On the other end of the spectrum, matriarchies are about mutual aid and community care. Memorials are about honoring those who came before us that made today (and tomorrow) possible. They’re about creating space for care.
RB: In terms of pushing back against fear with comfort and community, could you talk more about how you felt equipped to face the ghosts, so to speak, at the Klingel House?
XJB: For one, I don’t do anything alone. Any story or poem I write, any publication, any award or opportunity, is only made possible by the support I receive from my family and my community. I write in community. I submit in community. Gettysburg was the same way. I was very scared, but thankfully, there were people in my life willing to hold that fear with me. A friend drove me to Gettysburg and stayed the night. Two other friends travelled from New York City on separate weekends. I like to think of myself as an independent person. I like to wander away from the crowd and see what happens when I turn the corner away from everyone, but I can only do that because I know my people are watching me go. I’m never too far out of reach.
RB: The text engages head-on with fear, but what were some of the fears you faced while writing it?
XJB: The biggest fear I had was how to write about other people and the opportunity as a whole. The residency was an award and a gift, so it’s a tricky situation. You don’t want to bite the hand, and all. But I also have to honor my truth, so how do I do that in the most respectful way? And then there are the other people in the story. Usually, when I write, I go tunnel vision into my own perspective. It’s mine after all—don’t I own it? But this time I wanted to practice another tactic. It’s scary to try something new. It was difficult to ask my friend for permission to write about something extremely painful that happened to her. Thankfully, she supports my writing and was grateful for her and her son to be included.
RB: Could you speak to the inclusion of the “Interview with Fear” workbook at the end of the text, and how a reader should approach the tasks?
XJB: Typically, these craft chap series include prompts. I thought it would be fun to include the activities I use in class, and to make it more like a workbook. I encourage writers to try them, and I encourage teachers to think about how to incorporate them in their classes. Writing is scary! One thing I hope this craft chapbook shows is that there are ways of making the act of writing a little more comforting and fun.
Xochitl-Julisa Bermejo is the daughter of Mexican immigrants and a Chicana poet, educator, and community organizer. She is the author of Incantation: Love Poems for Battle Sites and Posada: Offerings of Witness and Refuge. Her poem “Battlegrounds” was featured in Poem-a-Day, On Being’s Poetry Unbound, and in the anthology, Poetry Unbound: 50 Poems to Open Your World, highlighting her growing national recognition. Inspired by her Chicana identity and her experiences as an activist, Bermejo’s work seeks to cultivate love, resilience, and comfort in chaotic times while amplifying marginalized voices.
Rachel Bulman (she/her) holds a BA in English and Creative Writing as well as an MA in Publishing from the University of Exeter, specialising in interactive and children’s fiction. Her written work, from non-fiction to poetry, script and prose, has appeared in Wolf Grove Media’s The Book of Choices, Velvet Fields, and Exeposé, among others. Find her eclectic portfolio on Instagram @worm.can.read, through her online portfolio, or ask the bridge troll who taught him his riddles three.
This selection, chosen by Guest Editor Claudia Santos, is from A Woman in Progress by Barbara Marie Minney (Sheila-Na-Gig Editions 2024).
Content Warning: suicide
let’s talk about suicide…
Naomi Judd and Kate Spade made the headlines
what about all the clinched fist brains of invisible people grasping
that spear point of hopelessness in the solitude and loneliness
strangling their minds
i’ve been there
yet I did not pull the trigger take the pills or walk in the water with stones in my pocket
why me
Barbara Marie Minney (she/her), a seventh generation Appalachian, is a transgender woman, award winning poet and writer, speaker, teaching artist, guest reader/editor, and quiet activist. Her poetry and essays have been extensively published and translated into Spanish. She is the author of four poetry collections: If There’s No Heaven, the winner of the 2020 Poetry Is Life Book Award and an Akron Beacon Journal Best Northeast Ohio Book in 2020; the Poetic Memoir Chapbook Challenge (2021); Dance Naked With God (2023); and A Woman in Progress, the winner of the 2024 American Fiction Award for Poetry Chapbook, an Eric Hoffer Da Vinci Eye Award Finalist, and a San Francisco Book Festival Runner-Up. Barbara is a retired attorney and lives in Tallmadge, Ohio, with her wife of over 44 years and a menagerie of stuffed animals.
Claudia Santos (she/her) is a Mexican reader and writer. She received the PECDA Colima 2024 writing grant for her non-fiction work and was a Sophia-FILCO Young Writers 2025 finalist for her poetry work. She is currently pursuing an MA in Children’s Literature as a EMJM scholarship recipient.
This selection, chosen by Guest Editor Claudia Santos, is from A Woman in Progress by Barbara Marie Minney (Sheila-Na-Gig Editions 2024).
Dancing Naked Pantoum
I once bought porn on a Sunday school trip, being naughty was the most delicious thing. Building an island around conformity was the greatest of all gifts I could bring.
Being naughty was the most delicious thing, in the duskiness of the club, dance floor murky, I was the greatest of all gifts I could bring oscillating with the breath of sweat and yearning.
In the club’s duskiness, dance floor murky, edges smear like a mirage, gyrating DJ oscillating with the breath of sweat and yearning apparition, in the time expanse, the crowd at bay.
Smearing edges like a mirage, gyrating DJ guitar shredding, drums bruising Transgender Dysphoria Blues in the time expanse, an apparition, the crowd at bay buzz sawing rhythmic eruptions through my shoes.
Transgender Dysphoria Blues shredded by guitars, bruised by drums, costume dragged over my head just as Laura Jane Grace sings rhythmic eruptions buzz sawing through my shoes voice carried to my ears on serpent’s wings.
Costume dragged over my head just as Laura Jane Grace sings “You want them to notice the ragged ends of your summer dress,” serpent’s wings carry her voice to my ears, breasts caressing air, aroused nipples provoking the beat.
“You want them to notice the ragged ends of your summer dress” tracing light rays from winking strobe lights, breasts caressing air, aroused nipples provoking the beat others receding into senseless rapture nights.
I once bought porn on a Sunday school trip, provoking thoughts of liberation that have been, tracing light rays from winking strobe lights penis hardening into an encouraging grin.
Barbara Marie Minney (she/her), a seventh generation Appalachian, is a transgender woman, award winning poet and writer, speaker, teaching artist, guest reader/editor, and quiet activist. Her poetry and essays have been extensively published and translated into Spanish. She is the author of four poetry collections: If There’s No Heaven, the winner of the 2020 Poetry Is Life Book Award and an Akron Beacon Journal Best Northeast Ohio Book in 2020; the Poetic Memoir Chapbook Challenge (2021); Dance Naked With God (2023); and A Woman in Progress, the winner of the 2024 American Fiction Award for Poetry Chapbook, an Eric Hoffer Da Vinci Eye Award Finalist, and a San Francisco Book Festival Runner-Up. Barbara is a retired attorney and lives in Tallmadge, Ohio, with her wife of over 44 years and a menagerie of stuffed animals.
Claudia Santos (she/her) is a Mexican reader and writer. She received the PECDA Colima 2024 writing grant for her non-fiction work and was a Sophia-FILCO Young Writers 2025 finalist for her poetry work. She is currently pursuing an MA in Children’s Literature as a EMJM scholarship recipient.
Heather Sanderson’s The Dog Who Wanted to be a Butterfly is a wonderful, creative, and uplifting children’s story that ultimately reminds us to dream big, and that love can be found for who we once were as well as who we become. A dip into the whimsy often absent from adult life, the charming story of Franklin, the dog, creates an imaginative space to welcome the magic of childlike ambitions. The underlying theme of embracing who you are is something children and adults alike can appreciate. Playful illustrations by Gérome Barry stick with you even after the story ends, building the colorful world of Franklin and complementing the enchantment this story invites you into.
Sanderson is very open about her spiritual journey and the importance of healing. These foundational ideas are woven into her prose, even in a light-hearted children’s book, where the compelling pull of finding oneself is explored through the lens of a dog, Franklin. Franklin, based on the real dog with whom the author is well acquainted, goes on a journey to become a butterfly. He starts by asking his human sister, Amelia, who instructs him, “Da ca bo bo.” These deep words of wisdom were, of course, interpreted by Franklin as “you need to eat chicken bones”—which he immediately set out to do. However, when this did not successfully turn him into a butterfly, he had to seek another source. He asked his dog friend, Daphne, if she knew how he could become a butterfly, and she told him to run up three stairs and jump down one hundred times. This exhausted him, and he began to lose hope, until he actually encountered a real butterfly.
The butterfly told him that in order to turn into one, he needed to lick a pink pineapple three times. However, finding one proved more difficult than Franklin expected; he almost gave up when, while at a restaurant with his family, he found a pink pineapple sitting right on their table. Each lick became a realization for Franklin. He was struck by how much he actually loved his family and his life as a dog. Although this did not stop him from desiring to fly through the clouds and float over flowers, it shifted his perspective of who he already is. It was at this moment that his wish changed: he no longer wanted to be just a butterfly. He wanted to be both a dog and a butterfly. So, on the third lick, that is exactly what he became. Thus, the last page of the story concludes with, “He always flew back home to his people who loved him whether he was a dog, or a butterfly, or a dog-erfly. And he loved them.”
Accompanied by the unique, cartoonish illustrations in a distinctive style, the story’s end comes to life in a vibrant way. I wanted to jump into the pages, imagining how I would fit into it, that perhaps my goals and aspirations will come true if I channel my inner butterfly, or my inner Franklin. On his journey, Franklin discovers that transformation can mean letting go of who you once were to become an even greater version of yourself, and this ends up being an emotional turn that he did not originally expect. This end to Franklin’s expedition is a pivotal moment and also my personal favorite. Sanderson illustrates such a deeply significant message in a light, accessible way so that children can easily understand it and be inspired. This is something that permeates my emotions as I read, as an adult who still needs reminders of self-love. More importantly, the final sentence, “And he loved them,” says something even more profound about this journey. It is not just who loves you, but who you love in return. Who would you always fly back home to?
The emphasis on love and on seeing your dreams not just as magic but as reality, is a necessary change in perspective and a joyful experience to be immersed in. The motif of a butterfly, in the way that a caterpillar transforms, can seem overdone. Yet, this book is a completely fresh take on what it means to transform, and the significance of finding yourself through change, both in who loves you and in whom you love. And, of course, because there was no caterpillar in this story, our caterpillar was a dog! Heather Sanderson’s The Dog Who Wanted to be a Butterfly is a story that encourages you not to stay confined within your mind but to stretch the bounds of your imagination and bring something of it back home with you—to share that we are capable of making dreams come true and of finding our people, the way that Franklin did, who will love us regardless of what we become.
Abigail Palmer (she/her) is a current English student at the University of Tennessee. Born in the North but raised in the South, she has always had a place in the in-between of things. In between reader and writer, student and teacher, chronically ill and healthy–she is seeking to defy such labels to become whoever, wherever, however she desires to be. That currently looks like a preschool teacher, beloved (of course) daughter, adored (obviously) girlfriend, up-and-coming cat mom, and a forever nominee of the “Super Opinionated” award. If she’s not incessantly analyzing every piece of media she consumes, she’s probably intellectualizing her feelings while making ultra specific playlists that no one can relate to but her! You can find her on Instagram @zer0cooll.
