micro monday poetry

Obit by Kait Quinn

Strapless dress—died in a hungover heap on a humid July morning in 2010. After I peeled it from my own wet carcass, let it dead bouquet wilt at the bottom of my trash can with the eggshells and coffee grounds, receipt after receipt for antibacterial soap. I did not wear the dress, the dress wore me. The dress ordered the extra cranberry vodkas….

Obit | Kait Quinn

after Victoria Chang 

About the Author:

Kait Quinn (she/her) was born with salt in her wounds. She flushes the sting of living by writing poetry. She is the author of four poetry collections, and her work has appeared in Reed Magazine, Watershed Review, Chestnut Review, and elsewhere. She received first place in the League of MN Poets’ 2022 John Calvin Rezmerski Memorial Grand Prize. She enjoys repetition, coffee shops, and vegan breakfast foods. Kait lives in Minneapolis with her partner, their regal cat, and their very polite Aussie mix. Find her at