The speaker says, “I have always been a god-hammered girl.” (Think about that image. This poem is, in many ways, about taking the circumstances that you have been given–the things that seemingly make you weak–and embracing them, becoming ferocious. I read it again and again, pausing on specific lines (like the last couplet). I thought I might pass out or scream or do something, and I realized I was having a panic attack, so I went into an adjoining room and opened up blud and read this poem, this witchy goddess poem (for “bruja” means “witch” in Spanish). But it wasn’t until a little over a week ago, when I was sitting at a keynote address for a conference, deep in my thoughts about how hard it was to concentrate, and what a ridiculous human being I was, and how embarrassing it is to feel deeply for another person, and how scared I was of my dissertation defense, and how scared I am of my student loans, that I really appreciated blud. Rachel McKibbens, from blud (Copper Canyon Press, 2017)Ī few months ago, I first started seeing Rachel McKibbens’ poems circulating among poetry twitter*, and I made a note to get blud, because each new line stunned me. Riddled my tongue with a father’s profanity. When I was young, I kissed the girls too hard, Mother thinned down to a milkless shadow. The last, of course-this cauldron of a cunt.
The wet unfolding of my arms, legs & fists.
