ISSN: 1941-4137
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
Gretchen Rockwell is a queer poet and supplemental instructor of English at the Naval Academy Preparatory School in Newport, RI. Xer work has appeared in Okay Donkey, Kissing Dynamite, Glass: Poets Resist, Moonchild Magazine, FreezeRay Poetry, and elsewhere. Gretchen enjoys writing poetry about gender and sexuality, history, myth, science, space, and unusual connections.
Previously in Glass: A Journal of Poetry:
After Watching Star Trek, I Return to the Real World
The Rebellion
The Last of Us
it was almost beautiful / the way it took over / not like a video game / running and screaming /
fire flowering / from barrels / bullets singing / like birds /
as they splattered matter / no / that didn't happen / instead / there was a /
retreat / into sterile walls / and white rooms / so clean / even / when the end began /
everything was quiet / people curled up / and died / bodies like fiddleheads /
curling around / an invisible core / eyes dulling / breathing / slowing / down /
and done / fire bloomed / in those rooms / white ash / swept cleanly away /
the long wait / over / spores released / no more sleepwalking / through corridors /
or into city centers / and standing / still / becoming worker drones / waiting /
to fulfill their purpose / to become / no longer / playing host /
to the subtleties / of bloodflush / heartpound / the hormone rush /
of lust / for living / or other things / good pancakes / sunflowers /
it was like wall street / the wall street we'd heard of / when businessmen jumped /
falling / like their fortunes / without / the emotions / this time /
they fastened to the skyscrapers / and burst / forth / spreading / impossible /
to quarantine / everyone / so white masks fluttered / like moths / over mouths /
and the world / breathed carefully / and waited / in fear / for their turn /
apathy / was how it started / was how you knew / it was over /
This is from a series of possible-apocalypse poems written in 2018 and imagines a mutated parasitic fungi infecting humans (yes, the title is a nod) and wiping them out as it spreads. In all the poems, I wanted to highlight something new about an apocalypse we'd already seen in media — in this case, a slow and dreamlike process of infection and a gradual disconnect from the world. As I was writing then, I was also thinking about information fatigue and desensitization: how giving up leads to disaster, and how trying to remain connected and invested is critical to healthy lives and communities. Now, of course, I have a different view of those final lines and their discussion of masks and apathy.
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
All contents © the author.
All contents © the author.
