Dear April, First, thank you for accepting our invite for this interview. When did you write “Anne’s Sadness” and what’s the story behind it? I wrote the poems for my chapbook, Anne with an E (a darker and more “adult” take on Anne Shirley from the Anne of Green Gables books), in the summer of 2014. “Anne’s Sadness” was one of the first poems I wrote in that series. I loved the idea of a bisexual Anne, and perhaps this is the largest of my own attributes that I incorporated into her character. |
Photo: courtesy of the artist |
How to Come: Get Yer Rocks Off with Anne of Green Gables |
Do not stay up late. Retire before 8 p.m. and slink into your floor- length nightgown. Breaths will spurt soft, quick from your excited mouth. Do not frighten. Place your hand over your warm breast and inhale. Tuck your bible under a muslin cloth. Tuck your Bible into your bedside drawer. Tuck your Bible. Tuck your Bible–Amen. Get on your knees by the window with hands clasped. Swell of crude Lady’s Slipper–Amen. Secret shapes form from the robust silo– Amen.Amen. Slip into bed. The scratch of the handmade mattress will redden your sugar-white ankle. Breathe. Reach a timid hand down your thigh–Amen. Yank up the material and place one pointed finger inside. Now curl. Now Swoosh. Now Loop. Now– Now–Now–Amen!Amen!Amen! |
I thought it was dark as hell in there |
but we found the womb was still luscious green trench waking / wisteria / tumor tunnel flush with knotted blood & what will the baby eat you asked around the drag of a cigarette you just remind me of my father which is pretty funny if you don’t think about it so let’s think about it we thought the baby was dead / someone shouted / night is falling & that crater fits nude & ridiculous in a blackout he feels for / pinecones / thorns / the coyote of your clitoris meanwhile I find one star to sip let the storm in my breath in your mouth like a cave one wind / wounded knuckle / a really good goodbye thunder burnt & tripping past last night |
Not to Be Taken |
At the planetarium she wanted to save the world nostril hairs already crisp before the fire they said let her fry smoke hiss she admired its tea color & gentle curl faces plush to window glass thick as dogs watching thick as the details burn the whole thing to the ground flame eruption a tulip sewn in the dark pluck her from chaos she will comfort her shadow in the heat & destroy the details. |