Krystal Languell lives in Chicago, where she works for the Poetry Foundation. She is the author of three books: Call the Catastrophists (BlazeVox, 2011), Gray Market (1913 Press, 2016), and Quite Apart (University of Akron Press, forthcoming 2019).
Poem for my Friend in Providence
Do you sometimes feel as if motherhood
is wielded against us? What used to gird me
changed. The big light bulbs — one, two three —
foreground honeycomb tiles. I wake up
with a start & nothing is wrong. A field is no
place to panic. The amulet of clarity you gave me:
what am I doing with it? Congratulations
never last. An amethyst at the beach. Your
needle & thread. We can die trying.
This is from a series of ten poems, each dedicated to the love of a female friend in a different city, and written over a period of weeks when I was moving across the country, uprooted and thinking about place. This one in particular is for Kate Schapira with attention to her essay published by Catapult called "On Political Change, Climate Change, and the Choice to Not Have Children." My goal was for each of the poems to be positive or hopeful, and on the surface they are not. Yet, they are about love. It's just the backside of the mirror glass, just as important as the part that shines.
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
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