Sep 22, 2022
RATIONING SWEETGRASS
a steadfast soul-birth, tried and true / this is where you sing creation into being
a steadfast soul-birth, tried and true / this is where you sing creation into being
Though, no man can disappoint me / as much as the body I was / born into. Kidding, obvi. I’m Chilling!
recently I signed a contract / which stipulates anything / I conceive of as a result / of the job belongs to the job
When I got up before anyone else / I took the heavy clams from the fridge / and put them in a bowl of cool water.
when his niece asks / tell me about Chía, the answer is always just: it’s a long story / but I think what you’re telling me, is that language is an inadequate grieving
Niina Pollari reads the title poem from her new collection published by Soft Skull Press
When I got better I ate / attention, the praise for being alive. There is no praise now. A needle, / a sharp’s box, yellow asking me to slow down.
everything shifts as she twists and spins her hair, lifting it to chignon. / So self-assured, as if the gesture were always hers
at night, when i’m outside and / the wind shakes the chimes, it sounds like the bell
Everything is an elegy these days, all chipped rings, / clipped wings.
There were two worlds then, the one we lived in and the one she invented, where my aunt remarried and nobody ever went to America
the smoke of belt burn / and nectarines and me / — I will learn to love him
there is little room for sourness, / little room for anything other than a vibrating joy
