it took 20 years to write a poem i was actually proud of
one of the first moments i realized i was a poet + your weekly poem/song
before poetry, i only wrote fiction. between One Direction fanfiction and the novel 17-year-old me never finished, i never imagined i’d call myself a poet — i was a storyteller.
i discovered my love for poetry in undergrad, so much so that i changed my major from neuroscience (pre-med track) to professional writing. i loved it so much that i was willing to give up my lifelong dream of being a pediatrician to write books.
one of my friends likes to say that my work, while not in medicine, is still life-saving, and i agree. even if i hadn’t received any messages from readers saying that my words helped them continue living, i know my poetry is life-saving because it has saved my life, again and again and again.
although i’d been a fiction writer, i still wrote poems here and there. they weren’t very good, but it felt good to write. the poem below, written during my junior year of college, was the first time i remember thinking, i’ve found my voice. i was 20. because it’s poetry month, i wanted to celebrate by sharing it here <3
this poem was included in my first poetry collection, paper girl and the knives that made her
[cw // SA]
preparing for the viewing seeing a dead body isn’t as theatrical as it may seem. it’s almost as if you’re 8 years old again, walking into your mother’s room to wake her up on a sunday morning. a person never looks more vulnerable than when they are still, eyes closed, begging for a moment more to be. so, yeah, dead bodies don’t scare me. i saw my great-grandmother’s in a beautifully flowered casket during the first shower of spring. i saw some man’s, mangled between the pavement and what used to be a motorcycle. i saw my great-uncle’s, well, almost. he wasn’t quite dead yet, but i could tell there wasn’t much left. i learned young that life ends when the desire goes, and there’s not much to desire when there’s nowhere left to go. i usually don’t think of them, but for some reason, more bodies have been crowding my home lately. i am a cemetery to all of my losses. i can only hold so many souls in my chest before i am left haunted. before it buries me in grief. i tell my therapist about these skeletons taking up all the open seats in my living room. she asks me if i remember when i had my first haunting and i say easy, last april. she asks me how i knew i had seen a dead thing, and i say easy, you can push away the living but you cannot lift the dead off your chest. she asks me to say more and i say no, i don’t want to. she asks if i see him now, and i tell her i can see him all the time. i have seen the dead before but i didn’t know that some still had beating hearts. had great- grandmothers. had motorcycles. great uncles. she asks me what i am feeling in my body and i tell her i feel him. he is hot, and sweaty, and it is loud. the room is filled with other bodies and they all watch. they love a good funeral. i cry my own eulogy. i understand how god has created a world with so many corpses. he is just another man who loves the way a body breaks. i tell her i died that night on that couch. i knew i’d been sent to hell when i woke up and his body was still on top of mine. i have tried to be alive again but i know it’s all fake. it will always be fake. i am always pretending this didn’t crucify me. so like i said, seeing a dead body isn’t theatrics. it is the most intimate thing you will ever know. you will learn to recognize them everywhere. somehow i am able to wake up every morning and float through a graveyard. i can name every ghoul that has ever latched himself inside of me. i don’t think the bodies will ever go away. i even see one when i look in the mirror.
write with me in new york this summer!
applications for the Interrogation Writing Retreat (Aug 15-17 in Grand Island, NY) are still open! spots are filling up (we are SO excited with how this group is shaping up). feel free to reach out if you have questions, or you can check out our faq.
it’s poetry month:
and because of this, i’m posting a poem every day on substack as a note. read day one and day two’s poems, and follow along all month for more :)
song of the week:
i burned my diary last night by Lyncs
submission opportunities for writers
lit mags/journals/full manuscripts
Variant Lit (Deadline: April 5)
New Flash Fiction Review (Deadline: April 15)
Cicada Creative Magazine (Deadline: May 31)
residencies/fellowships
The American Library in Paris Visiting Fellowship (Deadline: April 1)
Mt. San Angelo Residencies - Virginia Center for the Creative Arts (Deadline: May 15)
all the love, all the warmth, all the light,
housekeeping:
icymi: i made a doc full of book recommendations for people who want to read more poetry but don’t know where to start!
don’t forget to complete your one click today to support aid efforts in Palestine
unfold: poetry + prose, is available on amazon, bookshop, indigo, b&n, or wherever you get books <3
you can still buy paper girl from amazon, barnes & noble, indigo, or your local indie.
i love you. and i see you. and i am so glad you're here.
who i am: a writer, a lover, and a very Black + queer person. i love deeply, forget rarely, and spend most of my time cuddling with my dog, my cat, and my partner.
who i'm not: a therapist, mental health professional, or emergency service. i love hearing the stories of your experiences, but please don't send explicit or triggering details of your story without my prior consent.
if you're in crisis, please call 911 or use any of the following resources:
National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 988
National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233)
Crisis Text Line: Text HELP to 741741
S.A.F.E. (Self Abuse Finally Ends): 1-800-DONT-CUT (366-8288)
Eating Disorders Awareness and Prevention: 1-800-931-2237
RAINN (Rape, Abuse, & Incest National Network): 1-800-656-4673
The Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386
I could read this over and over again. I’m SO glad I just discovered your Substack off IG 🫶🏻 You are an incredible writer!
& look how far you've come since that poem!! so endlessly proud of you & happy to know you.