ISSN: 1941-4137
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
Sara Hovda was born and raised in rural Minnesota. She now attends the MA program in Creative Writing at the University of Wisconsin–Eau Claire. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Nimrod International, Nashville Review, and Tinderbox Poetry Journal, among others.
Also by Sara Hovda:
Crossdressed in Rochester, MN, I Consider My Reflection in a Bar Window
After sex you said
Melancholy
Previously in Glass: A Journal of Poetry:
Faggot Regrets Not Coming Out Sooner
this man suit
itches. sags. nights I hang it, it drips
its blue-clear sticky liquids. each cut
needs a kiss. I've cut out
so many tongues. men thought me
one of them, spoke fag about something
queer, slid up in panic. a scared man's tongue
lolls like a cow's. sunrise out
his mouth’s horizon. small wonder: words shiver
my arm, bite like fire ants. the marks itch
forever. let me match-flame this body to dust,
let me burn, let me grow red-gold
feathers or armadillo skin. I don't want
hunched shoulders too wide for auditorium seats.
I don't want alligator strength, every bite
bursts skin, every glare a hunger. let me
butterfly, mothwing. let me otter
the river, hold my own hand so I don't
drift away while I sleep. my closet
hooks: all the tongues
search the air, would form words if they had
anything in this shelter
to clack against to make noise.
I wrote parts of this poem when I studied with Eireann Lorsung, while at her Dickinson House residency. She had given me advice about creating a character in a poem to explore theoretical actions, someone who was like me but who could do the things that wouldn' be possible (or at least advisable) in real life. At the same time, I was reading Fatimah Asghar's chapbook, After, and I saw the image of a narrator ripping out the tongue of a man who, I believe, catcalled her. That resonated with me, reappearing in my brain over and over for a long while, so I used the image, trying to change it into something that was my own and not just stealing or derivative, which I hope was accomplished.
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
All contents © the author.
All contents © the author.
