ISSN: 1941-4137
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
Monica Lewis lives in Brooklyn, New York and holds an MFA from Columbia University School of the Arts. Both her fiction and nonfiction have appeared or are forthcoming in The Kenyon Review, SmokeLong Quarterly, The JFR, and AAWW’s The Margins, and her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Rust + Moth, Cosmonauts Avenue, FIVE:ONE, The Boiler Journal, PUBLIC POOL, Yes, Poetry, and Flapperhouse, among others. She is a VONA/Voices alumna, and a 2017 and 2018 Best of the Net poetry nominee. Her full collection of poetry will be published in 2019 by Unknown Press.
Previously in Glass: A Journal of Poetry:
epigraph
Park Slope, Methodist Hospital, Psychiatric, 2019
I am turned back toward walls, and so it is again, blank walls upon walls, so aged here, I remember the days when it was still okay to hang art for us, but now, here, I lie, naked beneath fluorescent lights and strangers' eyes, a sonogram of my heart, I stare in drugged-dazed wonder at this alien set flip-flapping in my chest; when the doctor turns on the sound, I hear what I always suspected, my heart does swim in the sea, like an ear pressed to a shell, I hear, I am, inside, churning, I am wind-kissed and a storm, I consider my heart as I consider a kitten now, a purring, pressing, precious thing, how most every one you've ever met has been born unwanted, but clawing, relentless, like light, it will take more than one god to snuff her out. I snuffed again, and again, but here lay choked and stupefied at the muscle struggling in my chest, a murmur, they say, a purr, a purr, I swallow the hum of a mother and promise better care, more reverence to the raving, raging waves inside, to the art carried still.
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
All contents © the author.
All contents © the author.
