ISSN: 1941-4137
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
Amanda Conover writes poetry that is often surreal-leaning, mystical, and confessional. She is the Poetry Editor for Carolina Muse Literary & Arts Magazine and holds an MFA from Arcadia University. Her poems appear in Atlanta Review, Lumina Journal, Witches Magazine, and elsewhere. Outside of poetry, she works as an editor in scholarly publishing and loves hiking in National Parks, traveling, and attending raves.
May 20, 2026
on turning 27 on the 27th
face to face with the lucky year, chosen
at 17 among choked knots of dreams
weighed straight to the underworld.
these days they call it a golden birthday,
though the term wasn’t there when you
chose it as the year of dereliction.
when you started streaming Lana Del Rey
and Marina Diamandis instead of going
to sleepovers or Hollister or the movies.
back in the years when the only streamers
on your birthday were red and the cake
tasted both too sweet and not sweet enough.
when, after years of that, you followed
your dream knots straight to Hades, or tried to.
woke under blinding fluorescents, started
sightseeing all the kinds of therapist decor:
the flatpressed lies wrapped in flowery words,
the oversimplifications, the unironically ironic.
then you got a few degrees, worked your way
into the corporate hellscape of late capitalism.
moved states, watered moonflowers, started
skateboarding down pebble-struck roads for fun.
learning the mathematical maze of astrology charts,
of calming amethyst and cleansing selenite.
writing poems about what it feels like underwater.
about coming up for breath at 27, face to face
with the weight of bloomed overworld dreams.
I wrote this shortly after my 27th birthday while reflecting on how I had gotten to this year of my life. As a child, I thought my 27th year would be my luckiest, until as a teenager I became intensely, chronically depressed and could no longer see myself ever making it to or past the year. Being in a place at 27 where, after many long years, I was no longer depressed and was actually celebrating my golden birthday as if it was lucky again felt like a full circle moment. So many of us go through suffering and struggles as if we will never see the other side, and while getting there will certainly not be easy or feel natural, I wanted to end on the idea that it is possible — to put in the hard, often painful work day after day until one day you look around and recognize the beautiful, wonderful garden that you created.
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published weekly by Glass Poetry Press.
All contents © the author.
All contents © the author.
