By Kat White

After I die,
let it be said
that my pussy tasted
of children’s unspoiled dreams.

May eunuchs charcoal sketch
me and Miles smoking
brown cigarettes and drunk-swaying, broadcast
all night, all over Barcelona TV.

After I am scattered,
let it be said
that I ate joy.

May the universe not regret me:
clumsy, tip-toeing, gripping, self-involved, now stumbling
with thick-treaded boots and wide steps through
the constellations and laughing, knowing
I knew nothing.

I ferociously knew nothing.

(Today’s poem originally appeared in Issue 2 of the Stone Highway Review and appears here today with permission from the poet.)

Kat White is an MFA in Creative Writing candidate and Instructor at the University of Memphis. Her creative nonfiction has been published in Phoebe Journal and Photosynthesis Magazine. Her poetry has been published in Blue Collar Review, Axe Factory, Lullwater Review, and Stone Highway Review; she has an upcoming poem in Fade Poetry Journal. Kat is currently at work in Memphis on her nonfiction novel, A Personal Cartography. Contact her at

Editor’s Note: Kat White is forward-thinking in both her poetic maneuvers and her contemplation. Taking us on a journey from the physical and sexual to the enlightened, she is neither afraid to admit her human flaws nor to laugh at how little one knows in this life. She shines the light of optimism on the way she will be remembered, “After I am scattered, / let it be said / that I ate joy.”

Want to see more by Kat White?
Selection from A Personal Cartography in Phoebe Journal


  1. I,too, loved the line, ‘After I am scattered/Let it be said that/I ate joy!’ Beats Frida’s line which may be slightly paraphrased: ‘May the end be joyful and may I never return ,’ though one often can relate!


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