J.A. Carter-Winward

by Arthur Graham on December 6, 2017

J.A. Carter-Winward is the author of four novels: Falling Back to Earth, TDTM, The Rub (nominated by the Utah Arts and Humanities Council for “Best Literary Novel of 2011-2012”), Grind: a Novel (voted “Top 5 Indie-Published Literary Novels of 2015” by IndieReader) and a short story collection, Shorts: A Collection. As an award-winning poet, her poetry trilogy (No Apologies, No Secrets, and No Regrets) contains genre-defying, convention-bending pieces that are a rollercoaster ride of emotions. Her work is available in non-stick-up-the-ass bookstores, or online in all formats, including audio.

Her work has appeared in Desert Wanderings Literary Journal, Horror Sleaze Trash Quarterly, Poets Unlimited, an online Medium Publication and We Will Be Shelter, an anthology, edited by Andrea Gibson, published by Write Bloody Publications.

Coming soon: The Bus Stops Here and Other Stories (2017), Work in Progress: Poems (Spring, 2018), Wade: A Novel (TBD, 2018), and Double-Dog Dare (TBD, 2018)

J.A. lives and writes in the mountains of Northern Utah.

Find her full bio, latest news and releases on her official author website: www.jacarterwinward.com

Follow her on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, Medium, YouTube, and Goodreads.


Natural Enemy

I started having affairs in my second marriage.

I could think of all sorts of ways to justify them,
one reason being he was always so spent
from looking at internet porn, but no matter.
Point is, I fucked around,
and I liked it.

I especially liked married men,
so sex-starved and disillusioned…
they were always hungry.

And I got to be the thing
they looked forward to the most.
It was great for the ego, theirs as well as mine.
They did shit with me
their wives would never do.
I would, not for them, but for me.

But my biggest excuse
was the role each wife played
in sending their husbands my way.

She withheld sex, bartered, manipulated.
And plus, she’d let herself go—
safely married, she no longer worried
about being attractive, interesting, or dynamic.
She’d reject his advances because he didn’t compliment
her new fucking earrings
or some shit.

The story was always the same.

So, in a way,
I was their

I was their punishment for their gratuitous arrogance;
taking their husbands for granted; holding them hostage
with their dry, uninviting cunts.
And the shitty bait ‘n’ switch
they’d pulled at the altar
the moment
they said
I do.

I’m not saying it was right
and I don’t do it anymore,
but I was
that woman,

The one all housewives
whispered about
when their husbands
were finally caught

I was a golem, the succulent succubus
of their serene suburban nightmares:

A terrible justice,
sucking on their
husband’s cocks.




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