I’m excited to make this announcement: Gwyn McVay will be reading poetry at the Fireside Writer’s Conference! Click on the link if you’d like to find out more about the conference or register to attend.
From Ordinary Beans by Gwyn McVay:
She liked me to say poems,
other people’s at first,
then my own. That was scary,
not her skull necklace—I liked that;
but saying for her the plain words
that had to be right, or she’d hiss
like a tigress, whistle around her tusks,
and stomp on tortured souls. So I chased peacocks,
I cooked masalas that burned through the kettle,
I climbed trees with snakes. Love sonnets
she could take or leave. Her taste
changed daily under my tongue,
imported fish eggs, the next day
At the ghats
where bodies are burned, where she lay down
and wrapped her human-skin robe around her,
she said to me, All this time
it was my death song. Don’t worry—
I’m going with the Buddhists next time round.
You did all right, for a kid.
Oh, I said, and she burst into flame.
This painting is made of her stare.
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