Liam Strong
my ovaries really do want to die, timothy
fallen ginko leaves with no trees to father
them. sidewalk illegible. it’s too
on-the-nose. unhyphenated, the parlor
trick, coded language
for blurry peaches. roosters crow in the next
neighborhood while still night. there’s
no good metaphor for child, one
that isn’t worth protecting. if the process
can be repeated, according to newton,
it will. energy is often
destructive, its hands drowned with honey
locust. arms cradled by themselves.
somewhere, something dies, & they keep
on living. no one is
proud of the sun for rising.
fallen ginko leaves with no trees to father
them. sidewalk illegible. it’s too
on-the-nose. unhyphenated, the parlor
trick, coded language
for blurry peaches. roosters crow in the next
neighborhood while still night. there’s
no good metaphor for child, one
that isn’t worth protecting. if the process
can be repeated, according to newton,
it will. energy is often
destructive, its hands drowned with honey
locust. arms cradled by themselves.
somewhere, something dies, & they keep
on living. no one is
proud of the sun for rising.
cancer dream part twenty-three
of course, a solace.
from your kidneys, bursting, a jaundice of water. foot drop, naked ballerina without
poise.
at a family reunion, circa 2004, uncle
jerry. the chew that didn’t swerve
from his mouth said at least he’s not
a cripple. those buried
pronouns. if it carries organs, the
body is broken. the honorable
sacrifice could be to omit pain,
its ancestors. say turmeric at
least five times slow. the sound
of stick figure anatomy, the center of
you, gnarled tendril. a centipede re-
coils backward when exposed to
sunlight. at least you are
not dead. control is a humerus who
makes sense upon snapping. one
limb is a quarter. so barely tax. if only
cells grew like that, moss in the nerve
endings. you would be thankful.
the course it takes, planned out & considerate. darkness between joints, where not enough sugar
copes. like family, blood is the hardest pain to remove. because. what’s a need if not
another bone you can’t support.
of course, a solace.
from your kidneys, bursting, a jaundice of water. foot drop, naked ballerina without
poise.
at a family reunion, circa 2004, uncle
jerry. the chew that didn’t swerve
from his mouth said at least he’s not
a cripple. those buried
pronouns. if it carries organs, the
body is broken. the honorable
sacrifice could be to omit pain,
its ancestors. say turmeric at
least five times slow. the sound
of stick figure anatomy, the center of
you, gnarled tendril. a centipede re-
coils backward when exposed to
sunlight. at least you are
not dead. control is a humerus who
makes sense upon snapping. one
limb is a quarter. so barely tax. if only
cells grew like that, moss in the nerve
endings. you would be thankful.
the course it takes, planned out & considerate. darkness between joints, where not enough sugar
copes. like family, blood is the hardest pain to remove. because. what’s a need if not
another bone you can’t support.
--
Liam Strong (they/them) is a queer neurodivergent cripple punk writer who has earned their BA in writing from University of Wisconsin-Superior. They are the author of the chapbook Everyone’s Left the Hometown Show (Bottlecap Press, 2023), and assistant poetry editor for Kitchen Table Quarterly. You can find their poetry and essays in Vagabond City and new words{press}, among several others. They are most likely gardening and listening to Bitter Truth somewhere in Northern Michigan.
Liam Strong (they/them) is a queer neurodivergent cripple punk writer who has earned their BA in writing from University of Wisconsin-Superior. They are the author of the chapbook Everyone’s Left the Hometown Show (Bottlecap Press, 2023), and assistant poetry editor for Kitchen Table Quarterly. You can find their poetry and essays in Vagabond City and new words{press}, among several others. They are most likely gardening and listening to Bitter Truth somewhere in Northern Michigan.