Summer Bugs and the Rot
Jul - Nov 2024
When summer started, I was shocked to find that my seasonal depression was actually normal depression! I could no longer blame a hiding sun and a lack of vitamin D. I’ve been working on this tapestry series for the last four months. The imagery is inspired by ancient art which you can take a look at below. I like that the forms of these ancient pieces of art hold feelings and movement that I can relate to today.
The poem is a disjointed series of scenes in conversation with grief and the way (human)nature heals and hurts. Personal grief illuminates systemic failures. The more you ask “why did this happen to me?” the closer you are led to questions like “why is the world this way?“. While not a given, personal grief may serve as a primer for revoluntionary ideology.
This is dedicated to my sister, Sophie.
which I probably deserve.
It looks like a bruised plum -
blistered skin
pit exposed between flesh.
swatting at mosquitoes
because I read in a book
‘If you resist the itch
you avoid the spread.’
EAT ME and
WHAT’S THE POINT?
puckered wineberries
and pawpaws heavy
on their stems.
the bend of the driveway
between
a curtain of branches
which, one summer,
hid yellowjackets..
on the damp bowl. Yellowjackets emerge
and swarm up our skirts.
our bellies and thighs
grew mold and sank
into skin as memory.
my sister and I
have been preparing
for the world
to end again.
I’m tired of living
this way, the sun stretches
and illuminates the under-
side of a leaf.
say: sow in the spot
the rot has softened -
roots will cradle the earth.
of a local cryptid tell
my sister society’s collapse
begins with the right questions.
which will lead either to
revolution or the caving in of flesh.