god as my colophon, devil as my colon:vertigoheel for the dilly
a scarf and a necklace are decorations of defiance.
after a lifetime-promise: female means choked,
I swear a name ripens on my tongue,
its juice loosens my teeth, its sweetness
more acidic than it tasted on the way down.
not easy to float in a water-filled boat.
to go ahead you have to dump it all out.
the delicate chain, a tiny charm that is a clenched fist
in your face if you get close enough to look.
after using the same scented soap, sweat becomes
associated with it, so soap becomes dirt.
it’s as romantic as the attachment of a couple’s
cuddle-bed-sores, growing into one scab.
What People Said:
“it subverts (by its music & gender & argument) & takes a whacky complex stance against those stale male tropes in the long poem we have been accepting as a template for too long. To me—Vertigoheel is useful—brave—smart—& funny. Physical / political / & ecological too.” –Phil Hall of Conjugation at above/ground press 25th anniversary essay
“My epiphany— that Vertigoheel for the Dilly is a personal essay, touching on interests and frustrations that percolate through her social media outlets—barely skims the surface of this little chapbook’s big ambitions.” -Ryan Pratt on Vertigoheel for the Dilly at The Puritan.