Poetry, Published Works

Kara is thrilled to have two of her poems appear in this anthology.

Bared collects the work of 170 contemporary women poets and artists. Exploring the gendered narratives that clothe and fashion the body, gender subversion, the traditional male gaze, feminist theories, and more, the artists and poets collected in Bared resist given narratives about the breast and bra by boldly presenting alternatives in written and visual art. The poetry and art of Bared consider commodification, training bras, mammograms, bra factories, biopsies, bra-fit, pencil tests, cancer, mastectomies, sexuality, implants, nursing, representation, and so much more, highlighting the importance of women’s bodies now and in the future. The cover art is by Wanda Ewing, University of Nebraska at Omaha’s tenured professor who was diagnosed with cancer in May 2013 and died a few short months later in December. She was only 43. A portion of the proceeds from Bared will be donated to the University of Nebraska Foundation Wanda Ewing Memorial Scholarship Fund.During select events, a portion of proceeds will also go to specified organizations that support women.

The Untidy Season


Edited by Heidi Hermanson, Liz Kay, Jen Lambert, and Sarah McKinstry-Brown. Published by The Backwaters Press. The four editors of THE UNTIDY SEASON, each an accomplished poet in her own right, searched for poems of clarity, honesty, passion, and brilliance. One of the editors writes: “We were drawn to work that both celebrated and subverted the ‘typical’ Nebraska experience, the ‘typical’ experience of motherhood, the ‘typical’ experience of womanhood. I suppose my own aesthetic leads me to be drawn to work that challenges ‘typical,’ but much of the work we experienced over that year of reading submissions forced me to engage with my own stereotypes and see inside them.”


Stirring, V 16E7: July, 2014 by Sally Deskins



Conversion is a poem that was published in the Spring 1997 edition of The Flintlock.

The Flintlock Spring 1997

The Flintlock Spring 1997


She was Catholic
until she married
my father
And though she betrays
no confidence to me
I sense that she misses

The first time I took
the Lord’s Name in vain,
(it was 1979)she scolded me
and sent me to my room.
Crying into the corner
of my trundle-bed
I realized she loved
someone more than me

Our soap opera
picnics were never the same

perhaps because I
resented not being
her only confidant
knowing He knew all
those “certain things
better left unsaid”

I think she wants me to believe
she is as flawless as her God
I want her to be more
like me