Friday, July 1, 2022

Olena Kalytiak Davis


olena_kalytiak_davis_chapbook_7-copy


from“dis-spelt”:

 My jeweled face, my dis-pleasure, my dis-ease.

I pack, unpack my orange streaked,
My freaked heart. With me I bring
My prosthetic soul. Under the newly dis-astering
Stars I dis-limb, dis-orb, dis-robe. O new dis-aster!
I will need new breasts, new legs, electric shock.
A clock, a clock. I will need to dis-pose of my
dis-pose. My sorry starry pose. Now
dis-arranged, now dis-natured, now-dis-
Owned. My dis-comfiture, my dis-comfort,
My dis-content: none dis-edged, none dis-closed,
All trees and bones! Dis-furnished…

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Anne Carson

No you cannot write about Me I think I should go in and see her. Can I stand it. She is shaking. No doubt. I should go in. She’ll be pouring...