Hi, I'm Maura
Just a writer obsessed with exploring darker subjects and the more difficult aspects of the human condition
Words to shine light on the dark underbelly
ResentmentsThe midnight comes, the silence breathes
I felt the stinging winter wind
I took a moment for myself
Then, there I was
Entranced by my memoriesI laid to rest underneath trees
The hops soured my hot breath
Then, I disappeared
Begrudgingly accompanied
By the words of enemiesThe daytime breaks, the moon concedes
The air hung still and smelling sweet
I took a moment for myself
Then, there I was
Grieving with my memoriesThe sun is sharp, my mind’s edge dull
For now, that stale feeling recedes
But those thoughts never truly leave
I took a minute to myself
Then, I was gone
Swallowed by my memories
First published December 2024 by The Word’s Faire
Eleven Years LaterTucked behind your low, darkened eyes
I recognize a guilt too sordid to share
When inside my fever dreams, you belie
A raw truth you decided I could not bearI fruitlessly hoped for sweetened peace of mind
And you attempted to provide that, you did
But every time I meet your eyes, I still find
All of the vile realities you hidSour memories I relive in downtime
Each grueling midnight held captive by thought
By mistakes I made when the guilt was mine
Discrediting my pain when clearly distraughtSo just as a dog may bark late in the night
And storms that steal lives hold no ill will
I cannot resist holding onto my spite
Even if your remorse is sincerely instilled
First published January 2025 by Cathexis Northwest Press
The Problem With Asking For HelpI know you so often worry about me
It casts a grey shadow
Across your face
It’s been getting tougher
The water getting deep
At night, it’s so hot
I can hardly sleepEvery apartment I tour turns me down
They all seem to want
Six figures, at least
But I make too much
To get Section 8
So, in my sedan
I will continue to sleep“Is there anything I can do to help you?”
Nothing that I haven’t
Already tried
No Gram, I haven’t yet
Hemmed those beige pants
I’m a bit distracted
A bit preoccupiedYes, I have recently talked with dad
He just called to ask
For money for dabs
Of course I said no
I can’t do that right now
She said “that is upsetting
I hope you figure it out”He said that since I’m a big girl now
I will make it through
By changing point of view
To be dry-eyedIn this time of stress
I should try to reframe
This all as a testI say I understand
You’re unable to help
Then in the same breath he asks
“How is your mental health?
First published December 2024 by The Word’s Faire
The First Floor SpiderThe frigid wind blew hard that November night
My bare feet chilled by the pearl ceramic floor
The TV sung loud, the shower water was hot
When in the corner of my eye, I spot it
A small black spider making his way to the doorMy first thought was to pity how he got there
The far cry my hotel room was from his home
That I couldn’t kill him simply for being
My shower could wait until he’s back outsideBack to where he belongs, back to where he can roam
I grabbed a tissue and coaxed him to get on
He scurried away at first but soon crawled up
As I gingerly held it, he scaled the sides
Did he worry that he was going to die?
Had he done this before, been inside someone’s cup?I opened the hallway door and shook him off
And onto the whimsical carpet he fell
But what if someone else walks down that hallway
And crushes him unknowingly as he sits
For far too long I thought, for far too long I dwelled
First published December 2024 by The Word’s Faire
A Likely Culprit
Jealousy that erodes us all
Desert stone kissed by the rains above
Steady and certain, unfettered
Accosted by raring winds in voyage
In land unmarred by human deterrents
Now the stone is a beautiful, hollow arch
Now the stone is a statuesque pillar
Wondrous and reviled, transformed
And love eroded by jealousy
Is nothing like once remembered
First published February 2025 by The Closed Eye Open
If you have any questions or feedback, feel free to contact me below!
I’m Maura Aradia Furtado and I write. A lot. As an emerging writer with no higher education, the idea of sharing my work was intimidating at first. I began submitting my poetry to literary magazines beginning in November 2024, and I was accepted for my first publication in December 2024. I’ve had forward momentum since and I couldn’t be happier that I’m writing as much as I am!
My work focuses on subjects that are deeply moving, curious, and/or personal to me; no topic or intrusive thought is untouchable. Alongside writing, I hope to begin my own literary magazine that showcases other unrestrained and raw voices. Some of my favorite writers and biggest inspirations include Sylvia Plath, Charles Bukowski, Hunter S. Thompson, Dorothy Parker, Ottessa Moshfegh, and Townes van Zandt (which doubles as a music recommendation).
Stay tuned on here for new work and follow me on Bluesky for updates on upcoming releases. Links to my original publications can be found on my LinkTree whenever available.
• Check back for updates on upcoming releases!
Are you looking for the opinion and feedback of a fellow poet?
Then look no further! I’ll provide you with thoughtful and actionable feedback regarding the meter, language, flow, overall structure, and rhyme schemes (if applicable) of your work, as well as a list of where I believe your work may be a good fit.
I offer critiques for poetry of all types, but for the most useful feedback, I prefer:• confessional poetry
• narrative poetry
• free verse
• light verse
• prose poetry
• any kind of rhyming poetry
• poetry with darker and heavier themes/subject matter
Submissions must be a PDF or Doc/Docx file only. My feedback turnaround time is up to 1 week for 3 pages of poetry, up to 2 weeks for 10 pages of poetry, up to 1 month for 11-39 pages of poetry, and up to 2 months for 40-60 pages of poetry. Submissions exceeding 60 pages are not accepted at this time. The length of feedback depends widely on the length and variation in your submission. To get the most well-rounded feedback, I recommend submitting at least 3 poems that vary from each other.
The rate is $25 for three pages of poetry. For 4-10 pages of poetry, the rate is $60. For each additional page of poetry from that point, it will cost an extra $5 per page. A submission of 40+ pages in length will be considered a manuscript and cost a flat fee of $200 with a maximum of 60 pages.
If you’re interested, please contact me below to coordinate or email me at [email protected]
Please note that I cannot guarantee the success of your work after a critique; this is just my professional opinion formed by my own influences and experiences as a published poet. As you know, opinions can differ from poet to poet, literate magazine to literary magazine, and so on. This is not a claim to increase your acceptance rate as a poet, though I stride to do so to the best of my ability.
I resent him. I resent everyone he looks at how he used to look at me. I resent that they believe themselves to be special to him, just as I did. Sometimes, this resentment tempts me to disappear without a word. I daydream about packing away my monochromatic wardrobe, tiptoeing out of our house before dawn, and driving out to southern Washington to start anew. I dream of a new life where I’ll become a hermit with independent hobbies, like bread making and gardening. A simple life. A life where I don’t concern myself over such ungovernable things.When at work, I find myself oppressed by those fantasies. When the tedium of my office job endures, I catch myself imagining the moment I allow those urges to overtake me. I would silently slip to the time clock for my last punch and leave without saying a word to anyone. I would turn my phone off and drive north on the highway until it was too late to fight off the sleep. I’d stop at the most presentable motel I could find and set up camp until I had the resources to lay down my roots in the Pacific Northwest. I fantasized like this often, almost as a way to pass the time.He and I used to be happier, though I question how much of that happiness was due to the relationship or to what we each got out of it.We still make love often and passionately. Our sides still hurt from laughing so hard some nights. We eat together and always make sure to give each other a good night kiss. But he used to call me gorgeous. His jaw used to drop when we reunited after the workday. He would rub my feet and stroke my cheek so gently when looking into my eyes that it made me shiver in excitement.When I finally discovered who the new object of his affection was, I killed her.I beat her down with the claw side of a hammer after I saw her leave my house one June morning. I told him that I was driving up to the Catskills for a weekend yoga retreat, but in reality, I spent the night holed up in the backseat of my Sienna. I followed her back to her house and beat her until she went limp. I didn’t ask her for the dirty details of their affair. I didn’t ask her if she knew whose life she was ruining. I just acted.I never thought I would become the type of woman who risked her life over broken trust. I also never thought that I’d see someone come back from the dead. Yet, there she was the next morning, alive and well, standing at my doorstep.Her skull wasn’t caved in. Her alabaster skin had not a scrape. She stood still and calm with an unbroken smile, staring straight at me. Not a word was spoken between us.I had to kill her again. How she healed so quickly was beyond me and something I couldn’t afford to question. I just grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the ground before strangling her. That ungodly smile…she never let up. But this time, I knew she was dead and gone.It’s been five weeks now, and I’ve killed her every single day since. Sometimes, she appears at my door. Other times, she appears in my backyard. Never speaking, she always stares with a smile on her face, awaiting the inevitable.He never questions the thumping or bumping when this happens. He never questions the late nights and early mornings spent away when disposing of the evidence. Over time, I began to cut corners when it came to concealing her body. I knew what was in store for me once the sun climbed through the sky again, so I didn’t bother being meticulous.All of that, only to find he still stares when he thinks I don’t notice. He still ignores me after I curl my hair and paint my lips red, hoping that I look exactly how he wishes me to. And she still haunts my life.I daydream about buying a cabin in the thick Washington forest to live the rest of my life. I’d spend my days filling my kitchen with the aroma of rosemary bread and writing about the way rainwater falls onto my berry bushes.I can only hope she would not follow me there.
First published April 2025 by Flash Phantoms
