KT Herr

Leitmotif with norovirus and Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride

Winner of the 2024 American Literary Review Poetry Contest, Judged by Denise Duhamel

I know I won’t get into heaven. I laugh at all the wrong thoughts. I beat the dogs inside me.

All the long arms of the fog reach me in my sleep. This is my one wild and precious life, harassed
by startles at my partner’s canned alarm.

I just want everyone to love me. I wake up and say it to the daft air: I just want everyone to love me.

I think there’s a word for that. Once, I brought my mother a crisp red leaf—she told me not to toady.
I thought she meant like froggy.

At Disneyland, drunk pigeons swivel red eyes. Someone is throwing up outside the teacups. A woman
twists her child’s arm so far it cracks.

I don’t understand manufactured merriment. I don’t understand buckets of stuffed animal keychains.
I don’t want to get into heaven.

This is my one wild and precious life: I watch porn on my phone with the lights out. I always clear
my browser history.

I beat the dogs inside me. One of them’s Pluto, I know it—or Goofy, I’m always getting them
confused—

One on all fours, mute. One strolling and guffawing. One throwing up on the parietal carpet.

In the Little Mermaid, our car gets stuck. Ursula steals Ariel’s voice over and over. It is her one wild
and precious bargain.

Someone is throwing up outside Splash Mountain. My partner’s daughter turns into a pumpkin.
I laugh at all the wrong alarms.

Fun fact I just learned from Disney TV: Goofy’s name was once Mr. Geef. At first, I read it as
Mr. Grief. I think there’s a word for that.

The line for the coaster is two years long. The line for It’s a Small World is two years long. I beat
the thoughts inside me.

I throw up in front of Chip and Dale. I’m throwing up in the daft air. My partner’s daughter turns me
into the Sea Witch.

I get what I get and I still throw a fit. I tell her no, I’m the prince. I just want everyone to love me.
I don’t understand this dog inside me.

This is my one wild and precious grief: I strangled the frog inside me. My fever dream is just endless
lines of mouse ears holding barf bags.

Pluto was the smart one. He stayed on all fours. So do I, romancing porcelain. So do I, strangling
this witch inside me.

My shame scrubs the parietal carpet. My shame watches heaven hurl outside the teacups. I watch
Mr. Geef on my phone with the lights out.

My fever dream is everyone loves me. My fever dream is I beat what derides me. My family rides
Mr. Toad without me.

A woman twists her child’s arm so far it tears right off. It’s my mother, holding out my limb; I snap
at the dogs inside her. I clear her browser history.

Trust me, I know all the wrong princes. This is my one wild and precious joy: they’ll never get back
inside me.

KT Herr is a queer poet, songwriter, and curious person from Lancaster, Pennsylvania. A graduate of Smith College (BA) and Sarah Lawrence College (MFA), KT studies at the University of Houston, where they were awarded the Inprint C. Glenn Cambor Fellowship in Critical Poetics. KT is also a board member with Four Way Books and the co-host of Coordinates: A Podcast for Writers & Readers. KT’s work appears or is forthcoming in The Massachusetts Review, Foglifter, Grist, Bat City Review, and elsewhere. Originally from Lancaster, Pennsylvania, KT now lives and writes in Houston, TX, alongside their spouse, stepdaughter, and persnickety feline.