My Heart is a Mausoleum but only out of Necessity

Stephanie Tom
ISBN: 978-1-949099-09-6
30 pages


With their tendencies to bare fangs, shapeshift, and prophesize, Stephanie Tom's speakers are the poetic heroines we need in this world. My Heart is a Mausoleum but Only out of Necessity is an electrifyingly gorgeous collection that redefines in media res — we are dropped right into the mythologies that tie too close to home — the mythologies that are metaphors for the exact problems we need to confront. Paired with this confrontation is a signature, unabashed femininity, both romantic and complex that continuously shapeshifts. Tom's collection strikes red at every angle.

— Dorothy Chan, author of Attack of the Fifty-Foot Centerfold

Stephanie Tom is a promising young writer with a penchant for myths and pop culture.

— Sally Wen Mao, author of Oculus

Equal parts ferocious and tender, these brilliant poems are unafraid to revel in the depths of the self. Each poem is its own expansive, lush land — no borders and all lore, replete with dazzling references, myths, and wordplay. We are so lucky to be able to traverse this magical terrain with Stephanie Tom as our guide. She is a fearless talent.

— Jade Song, author of Chlorine
Cover by Ann Gao

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Sample poem from My Heart is a Mausoleum but only out of Necessity:


佳人, Dreaming

after Lexie Liu She wakes up and as always, has to remind herself that the world isn’t ending when she opens her eyes and sees herself painted red, the sunlit window colored crimson by the lanterns hanging outside of her room. She robes herself red as well and veils her visage in an attempt to dull the din of the day. This technicolor town has only ever known how to glow neon, bioluminescent at all hours of the day. Like the fish tanks in seafood restaurants, blue as the moon, shimmering in her dreams — electric, enigmatic. She dreams of cool colors, of being a flying fish in a cobalt sky wider than her window. In one of these dreams she succeeds in flight, no longer tethered to this town. The news puts her picture in the paper: wanted, for fleeing the scene of a crime she didn’t commit, flying fish to freedom. She peered through too many windows and learned too much about the language of the back channels of this town that men have paid for over the years with blood — not their own, of course. Of girls like her, like those before who were vanished into the night before the sun could raise them again. They say a girl is only beautiful when she doesn’t know, and that only the lucky daughter makes it home by nightfall. The unlucky ones are folded into paper swans and caught in cages with ruby-lit windows. She folds herself into another day and prays for a yellow sun. In another dream, the sky is eclipsed by the sun in a single swallow and everything is on fire — the window frames, the newspapers, the red lanterns, all engulfed in burning tongues that lick at her feet. Her vision darkens. She wakes up and as always, has to remind herself that the world hasn’t ended when she opens her eyes and sees herself dusted golden, the window intact, streaming soft sunbeams onto her skin. The lanterns are gone, as if they were never there to begin with. The town trembles with the silence of the day. She turns her back to walk home, towards the horizon without looking back. She’s one of the lucky ones — and nightfall never comes.
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author photo
© Altan Tran


Stephanie Tom is a student at Cornell University studying literature, communication, information science, media studies, and psychology. A Pushcart Prize nominee, her poetry has previously appeared in Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Sine Theta Magazine, Hobart, and Honey Literary, among other places. She is a 2019 winner of the Poets & Writers Amy Award, and the author of Travel Log at the End of the World (Ghost City Press, 2019). When she's not writing she dabbles in dance and graphic design.