it so happens I am sick of that / way of being: denying my unstrength
Poetry by Casey Clague
I pluck butterflies where I find them
in darkened gardens,
silver-pin them to my gut & chest,
in my ribs’ thin ditches.
Body of aloneness & holes,
what’s one or forty more?
Men insist that this
is not a man’s stomach—
it so happens I am sick of that
way of being: denying my unstrength,
that body is the antonym of life,
blood coppered on my lips.
I want my body as a backdrop
for the dead, not its vanguard.
Wings become the stained glass
daylight passes through.
A kaleidoscope that stops
shifting for anyone.
Casey Clague holds an MFA from the University of South Florida. They live in Tampa where they co-founded the Read Herring reading series and serve as Assistant Poetry Editor for Sweet: A Literary Confection. Creative and critical work appears or is forthcoming in Flock, Permafrost, Gravel, New Writing, and Action, Spectacle. Find them on Instagram @_indoorfireworks.