Project Description

I Have Good News

We were telling names,
that’s all—”But what’s Nonny’s

whole name, I mean?”—when
his face drew in at the center

like a blanket in a fist, and he
said it: “Are we going to die, mama?”

and I knew what he was asking.
It had nothing to do with

monsters in closets or bad guys
with guns. I knew what he was asking,

and he wanted the truth that
he already knew, so I said it.

And I held his small body, shaking
with sobs of honest fear, and I

cupped cheeks and kissed nose
and spoke all that I know:

“You are here. You are here.”

Courtney Thrash

Courtney Thrash writes in the foothills of the Ozark mountains where she lives with her husband and son.  A fifth-generation Arkansan, she is inspired by the land’s simple beauty and by her modest roots grown therein.  Her work often combines a celebration of home with a restless exploration of small-time existentialism.  Her words have been published in The American Scholar’s weekly poetry column, “Next Line, Please,” at For Every Mom, and are forthcoming in Rogue Homilies.