To truly capture a slice with words, sure, Brilliant, but to capture a string of moments in the shape of a torrential feeling on the other side of the equal sign, that’s it for me. The Wow response escapes me every reread of “This Mutation Is A Back Alley Surgery” by Tara Boswell.
What’s strung together here ignites out of the roughed, a blistering holler about the female experience, about “the other: the othering.” Lines broken at “the,” the colon plopped down, that final line reading “make noise.” All the beating moments, moments of beating, the “my eyes, once/canals, you guard with fistfuls of rocks and I’m/damned. the ruins of my cunt,” the “I’ll/breathe through my nose as long as you’ll let me.” It’s all rattling so loud and Important. Go listen.
the other: the othering: the mouths: the mermaid fish
mouth she came out of singing tail. sing fin and fin
lips there. a time and a place for this singing into the
clamshell singing into the jar for your tongue in a
flesh vessel boned. unnerve the nerves wrapped in muscle
wrapped in bone with air bubbles. rising, the
crude witch knife makes a tongue stump wrinkled.