Issue 1.2

Fall 2021
1.2 DK_edited.jpg

Carrie Nassif

Reflection

This poem came from a random word generator search yielding the word “seam,” and I imagined this internal world of minerals and scars and mending.

we thought of ourselves           as a lustrous gold

a malleable solid      steeped within fleeting veins

 

that which we sought                 that what was got

 

by this mining       our own pluck        our own grit

 

we unearthed it with worn shovels       these scars

 

and stains like badges    like trinkets       like coins

 

even so            something burrows                 a soft

 

a quieting thing        fettered      and shut    tightly

 

against its own      twin       self       some part of us

 

putty-bare and edible     skinned     and    spiraled

 

peelings       all pinched       and clamped       shut

 

against the commotion          this city         of meat

 

we live in        the ranting the rotting the baggage

 

within                     as if we could                  by jaws

 

by jowl        by cheek       by mouth        if we could

 

sever      could chew        could only ever      cleave

 

could hack        could slice   ourselves    from       it 

 

in increments or swerves       or in swift in grasping

 

chops        all this riving         this trying        to split

 

to pry apart        what               must   only     needs

 

kindness                          to                                open

Carrie Nassif is a queer poet, photographer, parent and psychologist with a private practice in the rural Midwest. She lives happily with her partner, their 16 year-old future marine biologist, a very spoiled bearded dragon, an aging but sassy orange cat, and an aggressively friendly 65 pound lap dog. Recent work can be found in the Gravity of The Thing, Tupelo Quarterly, and Pomona Valley Review, featured in AROHO's Waves series, and in several anthologies.

Carrie's Book Recommendations

I can't say enough about Eduardo Galeano's Mirrors: Stories of Almost Everyone. I stumbled upon it in an airport in 2011 and reread it almost every other year. It's an insightful juxtaposition of patterns in our collective histories.