I gave him back his Remington,
the one he insisted I keep
under my bed.

Exhausted by the fear he
planted in my rebellious soil—
“Don’t need this anymore.”
His eyes a familiar scowl.

When I finally left his home,
the one we shared but never quite mine,
I stepped into a new gospel.

I’d rather be an unknown divorcée
than a princess armed with paranoia.

The notion of needing
a man or a gun
vanished in the suburban driveway
with the anxious morning dew.

“I’ll be alright without you.”

Natalie Kaye Gunn is a queer and disabled artist with work published or forthcoming in Ink & Marrow, Lavender Review and Sinister Wisdom. She was raised in a giant Mormon family in the Pacific Northwest, and nature and art have been her constant companions. Nat’s writing style draws on her experience as a musician and theater artist, and she loves to perform for live audiences. She lives next to a cornfield in Southeast Wisconsin with her dreamy partner and spicy chihuahua. Find more at: nataliekayegunn.com