top of page

The Understudy

Updated: Dec 8, 2023

My last moonlit August had a name: Judas. A farmer, planting weeds was his specialty. His last field was so brilliantly cultivated I cried. That year he won first place at the county fair. He was so proud. Thought his weeds resembled me and dedicated his ribbon to my name. So stirred by his gift, I grew a few weeds of my own dedicated to him, of course. Next year I’ll sow roots to withstand the coming fire— my blessed handiwork.


BIO

Joy Nettles is a wife and mom of three who currently teaches writing at Belmont University. Writing is her passion, but her ultimate desire is to help those around her appreciate each moment as it comes and live a life of purpose on purpose no matter what each stage of life brings.







Recent Posts

See All
The World Awaits

Her tiny fingers grasp my hand; dark pools of eyes follow me. The first light creeps beneath the curtains. Black curls like tendrils wind round shell-like ears with rose-pink lobes. Outside the world

 
 
 
My Former Lovers (A Sonnet)

My former lovers send me many things: old photos, art, mementoes of our lives; if we had wed, they’d give me diamond rings, but nothing of true value still survives. My former lovers praise me to the

 
 
 
On the railway station bench

It’s better to meditate at sunrise, they say. Inhale two, three, four,  exhale two, three, four. I close  my eyes to look for my nothing...

 
 
 

Comments


bottom of page