That it’s only possession reimagined. That / it lives outside the body. That it’s florid & empty / & cheating & thankful for so much, so much / it doesn’t know how to name. All her life the girl / has eaten. Now it’s your turn. Doorbell ring. / Quiet bruise. Price of deadly. Anything is yours / if you swallow it.
Portrait of My Body as a Crime I’m Still Committing, the new book from Topaz Winters, is an award-winning, omnivorous collection of poetry residing in the space between confessional & manifesto. Portrait is interested in the immediacy of language; in girlhood as wolfhood; in the cartography of illness; in fractures through the dark; in bodies, human & water alike. Luminous, tender, & unflinching, Portrait cuts straight to the marrow. To all those whose bodies have been more bruise than human—who feel so loudly the sky turns black in fear—this book is for you.