the body artist
by Kristy Bowen In spite of the dragon climbing
the arc of her back, she is small boned
soft bodied. Made for hatpins and pleats.
Named after a river, named after a river.
The crows lining her middle bleeding
into one another, lining the window sill
as she sleeps. In Mexico, there's a woman
shaped into a violin. Another into a boat.
Her bones cradling sadness like cargo.
All of them cultivated, the bad parts
cut out like corn. She's still skittish
in the kitchen, spilling milk
down her blouse and pressing
the heads of matches against her thighs.
Still spangled and waiting, a viper
unfolding at her wrist. |
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© 2007 prickofthespindle.com |
Kristy Bowen lives in Chicago, where she edits the online lit zine wicked alice and runs dancing girl press, which is dedicated to publishing chapbooks by women authors. She is the author of the fever almanac (Ghost Road Press, 2006) and the recent chapbook feign (New Michigan Press, 2007), as well as at the hotel andromeda, a collaborative text/image project (w/ Lauren Levato) inspired by the work of Joseph Cornell. Her poems have appeared recently in Cranky, Backwards City Review, DIAGRAM, Caffeine Destiny, and The Tiny. Her second full-length collection, in the bird museum is forthcoming from Dusie Press in December. She recently completed her MFA in Poetry at Columbia College. |