A TROPHYLESS FIRST

by Carol Parris Krauss

Baby’s first steps. The first words uttered.

First day of school. First day of college.

First day on the job. We rush to each

first with celebration. A race to be won,

a ribbon to break through.

 

Until the first Mother’s Day with no call

after the first Christmas without a mother.

The first time reaching for a name

no one answers anymore. No

Mother. 

 

A First without a trophy. Just 

a series of races no one wants to win.

Ms. Parris Krauss is honored to have published poetry in Louisiana Lit, ൪uartet, the Arkansas Review, Salvation South, Eclectica, One Art, Story South, The South Carolina Review, and the Mid/South Sonnet Anthology, among others. Fernwood Press published her full-length book (Mountain.Memory.Marsh.) in November of 2025. Carol was born in S.C., to mystical mountain people, raised in NC, and attended Clemson University. She currently lives in Virginia with her St. Bernard, Martha June. 

ANTIQUES OR ARTIFACTS

by Carol Parris Krauss

by David Horsey

Some people like to comb the beach for gold coins, silver medals.

There’s an entire group of Civil War buffs who scan the fields
of Suffolk, traipse down to the marsh looking for mini-balls 
and musket pieces. You can purchase the luxury metal detector
for just over a hundred bucks plus shipping online. Artifacts. 

Webster defines the word as an item of cultural or historical interest. 
Pieces of who we were, the battles we chose. I know a man who 
has an entire room walled with knotty-pine shelves 
where he displays his Rebel buttons, Union canteens,
and the occasion dried-up timber rattler. His wife watches 
from the kitchen window as he walks the fallow fields 
with his robot arm shaking. Hours later, he comes inside
and grabs his iced tea. Two lemons. Plops down on the plaid couch
he inherited from Me-maw and begins to watch Live @ Five. 

Breaking news coming from Tennessee. How an entire building
seems to be jam-packed with artifacts. Old white antiques
hidden away in locked rooms. Secrets covered in a layer of dust.

Carol Parris Krauss loves to use vivid imagery. Her work is in One Art, The SC Review, Louisiana Literature, Broadkill Review, Story South, and Susurrus. She was recognized by the UVA press as a Best New Poet and her first book Just a Spit Down the Road was published by Kelsay.

TAX RETURNS LIKE TEA LEAVES

by Carol Parris Krauss

Tasseography. Interpreting patterns in tea leaves.

The inferior grade: dust, steeps in hot water. 

Read clockwise, check the patterns like pages. 

See what the future, the Year of the Water Rabbit,

holds for those that withhold, fail to. 

A charlatan reads.

For a charlatan. 

Carol Parris Krauss: Mother. Teacher. Poet.

THE SUE BIRD PLAN

by Carol Parris Krauss




The grass is mowed, the weeds eaten.
Floors are polished and free of cat hair.
I have begun to create lessons for the upcoming
school year while the linens spin, rinse, rotate.
A quick glance at Twitter shows Sue and Megan
being interviewed during the WNBA All Star game.
The superstar couple. So while Baltimore is bashed,
women of color are insulted, Russian roulette spins
our president, and children are caged there is
evidence of love and beauty when Megan
steps aside, pushes Sue into the camera’s eye,
and declares “I’m on the Sue plan.”
Much more than a nutritional regime. Shouldn’t we

all have

someone look at us with those same eyes of
love and passion? Shouldn’t we all be on the
Sue Plan?


Carol Parris Krauss: Mother. Teacher. Poet.

WHAT SEEMS TO FOLLOW US

by Carol Parris Krauss

The kitchen is disorderly.
The small camping stove, cooler,
And bottles of water whisper
Pine trees, honeysuckle, and rustic cabins
Nestled near the George Washington National Forest.
But this is no weekend excursion,
but instead
Hurricane readiness at its best.

We thought we left the lengthy gas station lines,
Empty grocery shelves, and
Sandbags sentries behind
When we moved from
Florida to Virginia.
Hurricane Flo. She said no. The old folks
Say a hurricane is a do-over, a chance at a second chance.
A clean slate.

I need to see Florence to explain that
my move after
28 years
In Florida was my do-over. Scream in the wind,
Shake my fist. Look her in the eye.
She needs
To take her squat, spin, and spit,
Her erasure.
Elsewhere.

Carol Parris Krauss is a teacher, mother, and poet who is fond of college football and cats. She lives in the Tidewater Region of Virginia. Her work can be found in Blue Collar Review, TheNewVerse.News, The Amsterdam Quarterly, Fall Lines, The South Carolina Review, Storysouth, and other online and print magazines.

ALWAYS TURN RIGHT, NEVER

by Carol Parris Krauss

People rallied in New York, including marching across the Brooklyn Bridge, on Saturday to protest President Trump’s immigration policies.CreditChristopher Lee for The New York Times, June 30, 2018

Daddy told Carolyn, one of the older
church ladies, to always turn right.
Even if it meant you had to go circle
the block, or drive 20 extra minutes.

This 89 year old mountain boy
pointed out that more accidents
occur when people are turning left.
It was hard to tell if he was being

mischievous or issuing true advice.
He did grease the rail tracks when he
was a teenager, and hid out to watch a
train slipping backwards through a

Canton, NC night. Or was it advice
given by a man who should no longer
be driving, but still roamed the roads
in his paper boy hat and bifocals

dense like a Mason jar. Scaring
small children, dogs, and bikers as
he piloted his SUV. I thought about his
advice for several days. I could not

shake his words. I, like so many others
before me, conjured up my witty response
four days after his initial comment. It
still needs a little polishing, but goes

something like this: Today’s roads have
changed a lot since you began to
drive, Daddy. Cars have changed too. 
Do the sensible thing, turn left, Carolyn. 

I implore you. It may be seem odd
at first, but it’s not  dangerous. Carolyn,
Oh, Carolyn, right just ain’t so right 
these days. 

Carol Parris Krauss is a mother, teacher, and poet from the Tidewater region of Virginia. This Clemson graduate enjoys her family, pets, and garden. Her work can be found in various online and print magazines such as The Amsterdam Quarterly, Poety24, CHO, Storysouth, Pedestal Magazine, and the SC Review.

I'M GOING TO HAVE TO ASK YOU TO LEAVE

by Carol Parris Krauss




Napping in a Yale dorm common room
Lolade Sinyonbala working on papers
I’m going to have to ask you to leave
Three prom shoppers at St. Louis Nordstrom Rack
We don’t have your size
I’m going to have to ask you to leave
Unloading suitcase at California vacation Airbnb
10-4 burglary in process
I’m going to have to ask you to leave
Native Americans on Colorado State University tour
0.6% Native Americans, 2.3%  Blacks attend
I’m going to have to ask you to leave
Other golfers exist beside Tiger ?
Grandview Golf Club
I’m going to have to ask you to leave
Coffee, black, no cream
$1.00 for your Starbucks trouble
I’m going to have to ask you to leave
Representative Maxine Waters
May 5, 2018
I do not yield. Not one second to you.
Not one second.




Carol Parris Krauss resides in the Tidewater Region of Virginia. She teaches English at Lakeland High. In her free time she enjoys cats and college football. She is a Clemson University graduate. Her work can be found in online and print magazines such as Storysouth, Eunoia Review, and The South Carolina Review.