I’m so mad at you that I’m writing a Russian novel about the way you blew me off

She was my friend when you weren’t
not only did she say I could visit her
but that I could stay for months

you didn’t even say
it’d be nice to see you, but
so now you are the downtrodden character
in my novel, who will eventually die
all alone in the Siberian forest
from frostbite, maybe, I haven’t decided yet

but the important part is the phone in your hand
which will be bagged for evidence
by the local police department who will contact me
because after all these years
I was the person you ended up texting
at the end of your life, you will think of me

and I will say, sorry
I don’t understand Russian
What is this, some sort of a scam
no, I don’t want your prince’s money
in a lump sum and I wont give you my information
and I will hang up on them even though they said your name
it will have been too heavily accented
and too far lost by then for me to comprehend


A Careful Measurement

It’s all I can do since you stopped writing to me
to recreate your image in a story
in which you are as tall as you ever were
and as sleek with the same bushy hair
but I’ve added some embarrassing skin afflictions

you are trotting across a country road in the rain
and to my credit, I don’t let any cars hit you
there is nothing but thunder and lightning
striking through the gravy of a sky
with the consistency of porridge
I have surrounded you with this setting
as a suffocating, lonely blanket
the mud staining the bottom of your skirts
and all the cows and horses in hiding
somewhere warmer than you will be able to find
until several chapters later
the scene is lumpy gray with mud and clouds
both splashing and infuriated
then, as you are running, your heel breaks

that is exactly how much I hate you today

Debriefing/Warning: How I made each of my enemies [local edition]

  1. She bred rats in our kitchen with her nasty habits, poured bleach on them in a cruel attempt to eradicate the infestation, and screamed at me like a banshee because she thought i left the door open (even after the landlord vouched for me that the door was broken)
  2. He pretended he didn’t have a girlfriend and pursued me relentlessly -I also found out from some other local ladies that he has a history of doing this and some other disgusting secrets
  3. He made an offensive joke at my expense and then tried to force me to delete my poetry so i wouldn’t tarnish his precious reputation. He also said a disgusting sentence that would cause any woman to hate him, and he probably doesn’t even know which, but I do and I will tell on him.
  4. He flipped out because I rejected him, and our history causes me to panic and regress. He also said a disgusting sentence that would cause any woman to hate him, and he probably doesn’t even remember it. But I do, and I will tell on him.
  5. He forced himself on me in a way that was particularly disgusting. He also lied to me about his extensive criminal history. I could probably get him arrested just for being in the country.
  6. He weaseled his way into the feminist community to try and score chicks, and when i called him out on it, several feminists defended him and i looked like a dick even though i know from the way he treated me and by his own admission that he is not a fucking feminist

and writing this has caused me to have a panic attack. if any of you come near me again, i will tell everyone your dirty little secrets. And you can tell them that i have issues with men, which everyone is aware of already, and that I’m an alcoholic, which everyone is aware of already, and by the way, I quit drinking.

don’t come near me again.


had i told someone what was happening to me when i was being abused, it probably would have stopped. My years of keeping my mouth shut are over.

Calling All Writers! Our Short Story Contest is Now Open For Submissions

Submit your short stories! Awesome prizes! No fee!

Noted: If the woman’s head is cut off in the picture, that was unintentional. I do not condone cutting off women’s heads.

Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

The Contest is officially open!

Since its inception in 2016, The Sudden Denouement Literary Collective has had the privilege of featuring some of today’s most fearless writers. With members that span the globe and editors who share a passion for pushing boundaries, we as a collective have enjoyed reading, promoting, and watching the success of each individual artist as they have grown in their craft and left their mark upon the literary world.

Now, as writers and readers, editors and fans, we at Sudden Denouement Literary Collective are ecstatic to open up the doors to our outstanding, award winning collective, and invite you all in to pull up a chair and tell us your stories.

The Sudden Denouement Literary Collective, and Sudden Denouement Publishing, are pleased to dip our toes into the waters of great literary contests and announce our first ever short story literary prize with a call for…

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Yeah, I’m out

Two different women have written

poems about little red riding hood

as it relates to the kavanaugh hearing


The first was short and poignant

and i didnt have the heart to tell her

that the book she wants to write

has already been written

and the last poem shouldn’t

be compared to either of the two

that preceded it. It really wasnt

about anything


I had a bag full of dissembled poetry

a bladder full of piss and the knowledge

that i would be a better person

if i just bought some folders

and i thought about all the excuses

i could make to leave


my cat’s sick

my dog had a surgery

you might not have known this

but i have six kids

and they all have therapists

and all the therapists

are having a meeting


My mother fell down

a well and as you all know

i never particularly liked her

but she wont stop texting me

about how dark it is in there

so i should really go


or i could just, you know,

quietly exit through the door

while everyone’s distracted


The dry shampoo

didnt make a dent this morning

because i dont have time

to get my hair cut or wash it

my exhaustion is written

on my choice of an outfit

a silken scarf peeking out

of a staff sweatshirt for a company

that has never been relevant

the wet spots the rain drizzled

into my ill fitted dress and sneakers


it takes every ounce of empowerment

i have just to get up and go

without owing a reason

i say, Well, that’s it for me but

I hope you all have a nice weekend

Where all your ex-girlfriends are secretly laughing at you

I have wanted to live in a small town

since I spent the summer with my father

and he re-introduced me to his best friend, Chris

who, he told me in confidence, used to be handsome

believe it or not, and I didn’t, until I mentioned his name

to my mother, who blushed. My father took me to a local concert

and he and Chris laughed after a song had been played

because, they explained, the singer wrote that song about a tryst

he had with a woman who has since married and moved on

and they pointed her out. She was dancing while her husband

sat silent. They were all in their sixties and I decided

I wanted to curate my own disjointed histories


Tonight, I found an enemy in common with a woman

who said that she was thirty-two now and didn’t care anymore

but this guy had cheated on her with Ariel, who we also both know

and she said “Honey, if he’ll cheat on me, you’ll be next.”

Ariel didn’t listen, but she was right

it happened – then I met that guy ten years later

and he tried to cheat with me on his girlfriend

I imagine someday we’ll all be at a local concert

clucking our tongues at whatever romantic situation

he can wrangle up by the time he’s sixty

secretly flushed with shame, and secretly laughing