My apologies for the radio silence on my end, darlings. As you can see, I have just switched the blog over to a new hosting provider & spent the majority of this week ironing out the technical difficulties that entailed; I hope you will forgive me for that.
I wanted to share a small poem with you today that I was incredibly fortunate to have published in Glass: A Journal of Poetry. It's entitled "Trigger" & the Glass poetry editors were kind enough to nominate it for my second (!) Pushcart Prize -- what a tender & glittering honour. I couldn't be more thankful.
If you'd like to hear my voice, I did a little reading of this piece, also published in Glass, right here. I hope you find something true inside of it. Love always. xx
The end begins with target practise: me & how
I always forget to keep track of your hands.
Sudden metal to my chest, finger on the trigger,
& your eyes, god, your eyes. Question you ask
that I would die before answering. & your finger
on the trigger & it's not a metaphor, it's not
hypothetical anymore. So if I must, I'll admit it
now, with the barrel of a gun the only confessional:
yes, I love the girl. I love the girl matchstick &
gasoline, something fierce. Something holy.
Something on my back & shotgun to my chest &
yes, I love the girl like 14 reasons to bleed into
the ground. I love her on the border of sainthood
& sinner, her mouth the way burning happens.
Louder than target practise & your eyes &
shotgun which could so easily slam the door
shut. Must I say it to survive? Then I will. I will.
I love the girl. I love her like bitter wine. I love her
like dead things eating their way into existence.
If I must say it, I'll say it like emergency exit, like
dismemberment. Yes, I love the girl. I love her like
glowing in the dark. I love her like animal. I love
her like shotgun to my chest, already on the way
to unknowing. Yes, I love the girl. I love her terrified
& wondrous, creature hiding from its own fury. I
love the girl with your finger on the trigger & your
eyes, your eyes, nothing in the universe gentler
than this. What are you waiting for? There is no
more to give. I love the girl. Can I not have this soft
thing, too? On my back & shotgun to my chest &
question on your lips & no more words to hear.
So pull the trigger. I love the girl. I love the girl.
Go on, I dare you, finger kissing metal. I love the
girl. Pull the trigger. I love the girl. You are so close
to something. I love the girl. There is no place
quieter than here. I love the girl. I love the girl.
Go on. I dare you. Pull the trigger.