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.