Skip to main content














How You Became a Monster

It happened slowly.
Anger became a physical ailment,
it blistered up in scales.
You ran your tongue along your teeth
in exasperation. They were sharper
than you remembered; you slit your tongue
in half with the things you wanted to say
but did not. Hypocrisy! Hypocrisy!
You hissed and coiled in on yourself.
If you can't say something nice.
You have a hard look
you inherited from your mother.
You have a hard mouth
from keeping it shut.
They say you didn't raise
the moon-white child you gave birth to.
Your hair tangling up from the strands you lose
in clumps as months go past as you fatten
the growing demigod. The matts grow teeth.
Only one who also has sacrificed
the daily exercises of attraction knows
exactly how hard to comb your long
tresses become. The statues will never know,
they were not the kind to love like this.
They were the ones whose mouths are open.
But silent now, and so less unkind.
This is the process wherein vision became fatal.
You have circled back in on yourself until
you know how your species'
lizard brainstem works. You see pettiness
and aggression. You see the weakness
of the glass before it breaks and cuts you.
You see the loneliness in the ones
who slap your outstretched hand away.
It is still a human hand.
You see with the harsh light
glowing inside of you. It simmers
slowly,thickening.
Your heart, monster, is a human one,
and the violence of your eyes
is that of knowledge.




Photo by Mirco Delcado http://www.delcaldo.com/

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Armantrout's Feminist Poetics and the Meaning of Clarity

Because it doesn't seem to exist in digital form AT ALL, here's my annotation for this totally foundation feminist poetics essay. Rae Armantrout’s foundational essay “Feminist Poetics and the Meaning of Clarity,” offers a way of understanding the social in experimental poetry that is critical of a particular type of lyric subjectivity, described as univocal, closed, Romantic, imperial, and appropriative. For Armantrout, the stable poetic subject is inherently appropriative, serving epiphany demanded by mainstream form, constructed by metaphor’s appropriative nature. Armantrout specifically calls out the type of poems that most agree constitute conventional poetry of witness: “The conventional or mainstream poem today is univocal, more or less plainspoken, short narrative, often culminating in a sort of epiphany” (Armantrout 288). Elaborating, Armantrout argues that “such a form must convey an impression of closure, and wholeness, no matter what it says” (288). Closure an...

"Self-Portrait as Medusa in Shock" Jayme Ringleb

"Self-Portrait as Medusa in Shock, " Jayme Ringleb, Puerto Del Sol Online, is such a lovely and challenging ekphrasis. I won't quote any of it, because there is this seductive kind of movement in the poem, like very classy striptease, a dance of veils, or the pulsing of a jellyfish, that when relaxed, its nearly transparent arms floating away from the body, allows you to see more clearly through what when held tightly concealed those mysterious internal structures. The layers of ekphrasis in this poem are constructed like a nesting doll, each stanza with a lovely similarity, a theme, but each leading more intimately to the interior. The poem begins in the natural world of the jellyfish, which is written over by classical myth that shares the creature's name, which in turn is compared to Biblical stories of resurrection, before the poem finally turns toward memoir. There the poem compares this idea of the classical Medusa, being confronted by her own fatal image t...

I'm officially over 12x12

Deciding which poetry books to take with me to Charleston for 6 months while I pack up the rest for storage. I think I'm going to skip at least a few 12x12 months, and those books I'd planned to read and give away are stored to donate another day. On the bright side I think I've got enough to read, and maybe I'll even write :) Trying to find one last book, a chapbook by my friend Charlie about distance between lovers, the physical kind, to read when I'm lonely.