POETRY
“Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.”
Empty vessels
make the most sound, I think,
as you rip the fairy lights off the handrail.
I would always rather be happy than
dignified. Rather held than held
in awe.
the strands of your hair on the bathroom tiles aren’t sketching defeat. that’s you spitting disease in the face with another day you’ve woken up to.
I imagine that undressing a color, though, would be so much like peeling a memory away from the grey and the white matter of your brain.
If America is Babylon / and you are an exile / newly arrived among pagans / Catholic, ‘Ngolan, Black, woman / you already know how to pray
You let the yellow glow
from eye sockets. The building up the street
is burning faster and faster.
we drove on through
the blue seal of morning as the turbines
turned and winked out their hearts
Part of being a good sad person
is always painting the shadows
in the right direction and knowing
what sorrow to art with.
Dylan Krieger’s poetry is unflinching, grotesque, and beautiful. Her work tackles trauma, wrestles authority, and is a decadent sonic feast.
In my universe, my arm carries a heart and flowers,
my back a misguided quote
He has stories that I am not in
anymore. It’s healed this way.
