Poem of the Week | September 10, 2018
Kenan Ince “Foundation”
This week we feature a new poem by Kenan Ince!
Kenan Ince is a queer, Turkish-American mathematician, poet, and organizer from Texas living on occupied Shoshone, Paiute, Goshute and Ute territory (so-called Salt Lake City). Their work is forthcoming in Pleiades and has appeared in Word Riot, Duende, and Permafrost, among others. They are the recipient of scholarships to the Antioch Writers’ Workshop and Lambda Literary Writers’ Retreat and winner of the Utah Pride Center’s Poetry and Prose Contest.
I want slash love
your space-print leggings.
Give them to me.
Give me your glitter eyeshadow,
your bedazzled snakeskin heels.
I want to wrap you
in a cashmere shawl,
you hunk of self-actualized fab.
You do you, honey, and let me
watch. I want to learn
how you dip and weave
between slurs and shade and never
smudge your Jeffree Star
lavender lipstick. I am still sliced
by the razor-front
of my father’s words, ten years later:
“There are no gay people
in Turkey,” – my dress
rips at the midseam, loosing
an avalanche of chest hair
and glitter body spray.
“That shirt is too girly for you,”
—my left wedge cracks
in half. I stagger into
the night, eyeshadow
smudged, city lights bright
as flames smeared across
my vision, everything burning
or being renewed.
I want to wrap myself around you
like pashmina and soak up some
of your warmth, that fire I need
to gut the skyscrapers my father
built within me. I want to sow
the foundation with salt
and stand there holding
your hand, dreaming of Gaudi
or Wright, you the hunk
of stone on which I begin
to build. Don’t tell me I need
a layer of foundation, a coat of
blush, before I can build
Don’t tell me you, too, are inconsolable.
I’ll be in the bathroom forever
building sandcastle cities in the tub,
digging moats to keep out the invading
armies of others’ opinions. Every night,
high tide, cheapest of makeup removers,
wipes away any trace
of the previous night’s look.
In the morning, I’m swallowed again
in my body’s masculine quicksand.
I’ll see you tonight in the Bayou City
DJing in a Midtown biergarten,
black wig flawless, safely
I was doing a small scene in a music video with my friends for the incredible Houston riot grrl band Giant Kitty where I reassured another nonbinary person that they were fabulous. Everyone in the video was covered with Post-It notes representing gendered/racialized microaggressions reading things like “SIR” or “are you a boy or a girl?” I maybe internalized the role a bit too much, as I developed quite the crush on my scene-partner and admired their ability to own their queerness in ways that, at the time, I didn’t feel comfortable doing. From there I was led to examine the sort of “always-on fab” that queer folks are often expected to exhibit even among those sectors of society that accept them and my own inability to live up to those standards, and “Foundation” was the result.
SEE THE ISSUE
Poem of the Week
Jan 21 2019
Emily August “Black-Eyed Susan”
This week we present “Black-Eyed Susan,” a new poem by Emily August. Emily August is an assistant professor of literature at Stockton University, where she teaches courses in 19th-century British
Poem of the Week
Jan 14 2019
David Bergman “The Man Who Felt No Pain”
This week we present “The Man Who Felt No Pain” a poem by David Bergman. Bergman’s poems appear in our Fall Issue (41.3) “Practical Living.” David Bergman is the
Poem of the Week
Jan 07 2019
Toi Derricotte “What Are You?”
Toi Derricotte’s most recent book is The Undertaker’s Daughter. She has received the Lucille Medwick Memorial Award from the Poetry Society of America, two Pushcarts, the Paterson Poetry Prize for