Kari Gunter-Seymour has lived in a green corner of southeastern Ohio her entire knowing life, never too far from the family farm, where her grandparents devoted their lives to working the land. She is part of a community that believes in the strength of family, that friendships are precious and honor is a virtue greatly admired. The woods, creeks and rolling hills surrounding her provide a sense of connectedness and lack of pretense that align her with natural life forces that empower and refresh her spirit. Her writing comes from what she knows, what she has heard, tasted, felt and touched.



After the Farm, The Apartment on Hope Drive


Because, I’m your mama
Is why I ask
Seeing your face all
Spit polished and ready
Takes me back

Just the two of us
Cramped up city dwellers
Subsidized and lonely
Listening to the McKinley boys
Thumping their Big Wheel
Across our ceiling
Their daddy shouting
One of you boys better
Fetch me another beer
Giving me shivers recalling the
Streaks of red and purple
Mushrooming crosswise on their mama's face
Always thankful when it grew quiet
Even knowing all the lights were out and
Neither of those boys had scrubbed their teeth

Beside myself,
Finding you and Timmy Moreland
Crouched behind that Ninja Turtles sand box cover
Dodging BB’s from his brother’s Red Rider
Which got taken away
Only after he shot banzai
Clean through their Magnavox
Causing his maw-maw to miss her favorite
"America’s Funniest Home Videos" 
That Christmas
You played with G.I. Joes
Bought from the dollar store and
Delivered by Santa
We baked sugar cookies from scratch and 
Rode the bus downtown to see the lights

Many a sleepless night
Long after tucking you in
Flipping on the swag light   
Hanging over the kitchen table
Sitting down to notebook and pen
Waiting for the next words to come

Turns out
The danger in the writing, son
Is that there’s always a chance
You will remember
All you’ve worked so hard to erase



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