HeyJaredSouthern Gothic
Southern Intersectional Feminist Essayist, Lyricist, Poet, Artist, and Award-Winner Sarah Citrin invites you into the lives of the cunning folk of Alabama. She studied Anthropology at Auburn, and community building with Austin Film Fest and Co-op Network.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 12
- Latest publication
- Sep 30, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Sep 18, 2026
Latest issues
An Excerpt from my Fantasy Novel (opens the original)
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Mizzuz (opens the original)
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“Mizzuz Cooke!” I hear behind me as I carry I bagillion groceries in. “Mizzuz Cooke!”“Oh. I am not Mrs. Cooke. I am Miss Citrin.” I say concisely as I have more often these days. My neighbor who moved in recently looked unconsciously at my left hand. “Oh!” She said taken aback. “I just assumed because of your kids! You don’t have a husband? Mizz Citrin?”“No. I do not.” I said a little proudly.“That must be really really hard.”“Quite.” I say gesturing to the bagillion bags. “If you’ll
The Grand Pulley Stage (opens the original)
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It’s odd for people to meet me on stage first. No one who meets me for the first time would ever expect… that I write what I write. I’m quiet first where I walk in alone, and for a while that was almost everywhere. I can charm the whole world into the palm of my hand or I can send me far away from them. When the magnet is on, it’s strong in either direction, but only one direction at a time so far. Or I can turn it all the way off. Pull my own plug. Go dark until morning, you know, survive a qui
What Do You Call It? (opens the original)
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Have you ever been stopped in your tracks? You know, like time slows down and the fabric of everything kind of warps a little? It’s 2022, and I was about to break my mother’s accidental Irish woman curses over me by not choosing the man she had thought I’d want.I looked, instead, towards women with candles and followed a path less traveled. I came out sputtering ash and pulling it down my cheeks. It’s happened more than once, but rarely and never yet with someone like me.She had kind of a glow.
Bread (opens the original)
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Before I had a secret life as a poet who became a Victorian lady indisposed, I still wrote most days. I baked bread. I cooked all the time. I made stick men out of my babies’ carrots. I experimented with macarons while I worked and went to school.Everything feels different on HRT. I need to remember. I am already starting to forget I was ever sick. If I am ever sick again, I will be having a hard time parsing it out. It’s hormonal. Not autoimmune (though I think it can bring it on), not psycholo
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