Bridget Lindstrom | 3 poems

Spell casting 

These men, 
With their ideas that women are feeble
To make us believe we are easily conquered 
Has turned my ocean tides
I have seen terrible and strange things
That would make a hurricane turn tail wind and flee
I bled on revolutionary coast lines
Sprung from a line of witches 
Who thrived on barren and cold shores
These men, 
Stand there astonished
Assuming my innocence and fragility
Because I do not bleat my tragic stories
Lamb lost and frightened into their laps
Astounded at my unflinching gaze
When they show me lightning in a bottle
Because somewhere along the lines
They began to believe their own lie
And it will be their undoing 

Running river words

I knew before you told me 
In the way my mother can guess 
An answer to jeopardy before they ask the question
I never asked
Because I was a river in egypt
And every article I read titled
Advice for having a partner who is bulimic 
Told me one of the biggest parts in denial 
But they never guessed which partner
They were talking about 
So now I’m sitting
No longer a river
But a deep Atlantic
Swelling and chilled
A slave to moonbeams
Worrying I’m going to flood your shores
If I get too close
But fearing the worst if I draw away
Leaving beaches barren 
Worrying about something more dangerous
Eating away at your coastline

Feet that beat like Mani 
I wanted to show you the piece of my heart 
that looks like a big warm Oklahoma sky sunset
Painted with red teardrop salt rocks
And Indian paint brush clouds

But you make me have this nervous feeling
Like the part of a wolves how when it gets all low on the end
Like when people remind you that the phrase too good to be true exists
Like when you remember being afraid of things going to well can be a legitimate phobia
Like when you start checking symptoms for it on web md and it turns out you have several types of cancer

You gave me that kind of nervous feeling
But I know to start running when I hear the bay of a wolf 

When you sent that text
That ‘let’s just be friends’ text
That things our generation 
has trouble saying outside a glowing screen text
That things you should have mentioned
before I was admiring the way
The christmas lights around my room lit up your eyes
until they almost looked purple while you laid beside me
Of course I didn’t get mad, or lash out, 

I’ve been the moon running from wolves my whole life. 


Bridget Lindstrom is a 25 year old barista from Somerville, MA, who now lives in a small house with a red door by the sea just east of Boston harbor. She spends her days dreaming and wandering on the beach and in the evening she helps run a cafe in Chinatown called Jaho Coffee and Wine. When she has a moment to herself she loves spending time writing on her porch with the company of her dog Bosco or reading in other cafes around downtown.



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