Q & A



How to wear snow

in your tight body

with rightness to your right

and correctness to your left?



A finger on your seconds

of wailed willing

and salt on your lips




There is a way to bow your head that is unlike humility.

It is in the feeling and the molding and the stumbling and the dragging

of the imaginary. It can slump your shoulders lower than other habits

and enable the crux of the mildly opaque.

In the end, the sculpture of the bow is a language of mutual absurdity

and the opposite of god is a man demanding a sacrifice not unlike blood:

a performance of performance in the name of minced reverence.

Stephanie Jean is a Brooklyn-based poet.