Four poems excerpted from Liliane Giraudon’s forthcoming book (in translation), Sphinx.
The Shores of Faith | Periwinkles | Portrait At 19
Cruel Optimism | Good Wolf
A Visit | Door to the Sea | Marble
put my name on everything | you know the way crabs blow bubbles?
Bad at Math | Campaign Postcards | Trial Notes
Do you prefer things to be Interesting or Good?
Do you prefer to sleep: a. Alone? b. With a partner but not touching? c. Cuddling?
Here I was, this beaten woman trying to make sense of my life against the sense of the house. Did I run out of it? One or two times? Did I call 911 asking for pizza delivery hoping the operator was trained in this as the code? No I never did that.
She drifts around the house with her ghost baby, singing lullabies and rocking the baby like it’s a basket of eggs.
Bad things would still happen, she was sure—after all, people were hurt or worse on more planets than her own—but when they did, it wouldn’t be because of her. It wouldn’t be because of Chance.
To be aromantic and asexual is to find oneself wearing assumptions that don’t fit, to find oneself veering from an expected life trajectory—following an absence or negation of markers, following a quiet inner logic.
Facts are either beautiful or they leech the beauty from things.
Before my idiot dribble of adulthood, I was young once & because I was often in rooms filled with music there was dancing. Somewhere in Old City Philly…
Instead, as my shell collection on Oʻahu gathers dust, as my name grows too small to be held in the mouths of those who loved me as a child, I gather violets.