ISSN: 1941-4137
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
Erica Charis-Molling is a creative writing instructor for Berklee Online. Her writing has been published in Crab Fat, Broad!, Anchor, Vinyl, Entropy, Mezzo Cammin, and Apricity. She is currently the Assistant Editor at About Place and was the Eco-Justice Anthology Support Intern at Split This Rock. She’s an alum of the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference and is currently pursuing her M.F.A. in Creative Writing at Antioch University.
Poets Resist
Edited by Jonathan May
June 17, 2018
Edited by Jonathan May
June 17, 2018
To the Paper Bags, the Morning After the Pulse Massacre
To protect their families from retribution, the LGBT asylees in Boston’s Pride March wore paper bags over their heads to insure anonymity in pictures or video taken at the event.
In this rainbow parade of meteors,
on this morning, our new after,
so many stars hurled to earth:
you are the brightest, pulsing thing falling
forward. No, the glow in your bag
couldn’t be shame — it’s unmistakable,
though your face must be. Paper mask
protecting faces left in a life as far
away as the sun, memories burning
in slow elliptical circles in the dark
spaces of your mind. Look out, look out
of the bag! Don’t watch on the darker side,
the screen. The sister you couldn’t tell. The mother
who stood between you and the mob.
the lover who swore they’d flee, hide, find
you. Set your foot down, here in Boston.
You are radiant, not burning, not lit
on the pyre where your father laid you. Wake up,
beloved. You are hundreds of miles
from gods and holes dug in earth of a different
hue. No, the fear you feel constricting
the air of this morning is mine. My heart,
still collapsing, not-yet-star. Silent,
your chest full of galaxies, I watch you
breathe. Your chest empties with each exhale.
You release the dust, the same we’ve carried
into these streets, burning or disguised, dust
that could birth a new star. Your eyes pierce
through the bag you shoulder and meet mine.
For a moment we tremble with the first light.
Poets Resist is published by Glass Poetry Press.
All contents © the author.
All contents © the author.
