My Illinois Life
Katie Darby Mullins

is still packed in the other bedroom
On the second story in the house
I rented across the street from the BBQ
Joint. I remember loving the split bedroom,
Glass door dividing sleep from work
And a sloped, a-line roof that seemed
Churchlike in its simplicity. Young enough
That I didn't know no central air
Would turn that room into a sweat box,
A glowing yellow sunset of a place
Uninhabitable except after dark. And still

When I try to go back to Murphysboro
In my mind, all I can conjure is the heat
All over me like hives, the springy carpet,
The overflowing closet, and the drive I made,
Every other weekend, back to my husband
And stepdaughter. All I can conjure is messy
Noise that sometimes spilled from a guitar
I had still barely learned to play, gunshots
That amounted to nothing more than setting
Ringing against cheap panes, psychedelic
Warmth covering me, cramming my whole
Life into the room across the hall, keeping
This space to hold the life I had to leave.
​

About the Author: Katie Darby Mullins teaches creative writing at the University of Evansville. In addition to being nominated for a Pushcart Prize and editing a rock 'n roll crossover edition of the metrical poetry journal Measure, she's been published or has work forthcoming in journals like Hawaii Pacific Review, BOAAT Press, Harpur Palate, Prime Number, Big Lucks, Pithead Chapel, The Evansville Review, and she was a semifinalist in the Ropewalk Press Fiction Chapbook competition and in the Casey Shay Press poetry chapbook competition. She's also the lead writer and founder of the music blog Katie Darby Recommends.

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