A Worm Moon In February
Welcome to A Worm Moon, a poetry newsletter where I, Phoenix Yemi, share what I've been reading and writing through the month.
It's been hard to write, or rather to begin writing. It’s been hard to give myself the space and the time. Poetry comes from a place a feeling, always, but this month, there have been moments where my only desire has been to close my eyes and to disappear. The world is on fire and I feel like I'm on fire, but I didn't want to write that poem, so I didn't want to write.
There's a quote from the poet Lucie Brock-Broido that I've been carrying with me this month. Her theory is that "a poem is troubled into its making. It’s not a thing that blooms; it’s a thing that wounds” which I think is to say that things happen like a provocation, and then the poem is forced to exist because the poet is afraid, because the poet is looking for a mirror, for an answer, for proof, for something inside the mind's eye that cannot be accessed, yet. The poet is looking for peace of mind.
I say this because this month, the poems feel like they've been troubled into their making, and the line I'm walking is between desire and desperation. I try to not be ashamed of my wanting, but sometimes I'm afraid that this aloneness is maybe forever and the feeling spills over onto desperation. I don't like to be desperate. It feeds on my patience when deep down I understand that sometimes silence is what is needed, and I understand that the earth will sing when it's ready. Spring is almost here.
1
What is the line between desire and desperation? When I reread this poem, I think the answer is unimportant. What matters is that I want to be brave, that I want to listen to Mary Oliver when she tells me that I do not have to be good, that I should let the soft animal of my body love what it loves; I want to find the wild geese. The title of this poem is a line from the short story 'The Voice' by Anaïs Nin.
2
This month I've been reading a lot of June Jordan. Her poetry teaches me what it means to surrender, to have the courage to let go and have faith that whatever comes will hold you safe. I want to share three lines from three poems by June Jordan and I'll share the poems below.
My life is being born // Your property is dying (from 'Poem For My Family: Hazel Griffin and Victor Hernandez Cruz')
I am speaking for myself (from 'Poem to the Mass Communications Media')
I commit to friction and the undertaking of the pearl (from 'Intifada Incantation: Poem 38 for b.b.L.')
3
An erotic poem in celebration of Valentine's Day.
"in my dream / you are night and / blood rising / you are want / the dawn yawning open, breathing / to tell me / ache my body / is made by your voice / & i / am covered in honey, unbound / & pursuing the myth of orpheus / my
tongue singing worship / music
pours / out of your mouth"
Chrysalis, 2023 by Danielle Mckinney (American, b. 1981)
4
A poem by Lucie Brock-Broido. I'm struck by the imagery of self-discovery, the marmoset shedding its Great Ape suit to be the woman in the field dressed only in the sun. It takes me to Louise Glück, to her poem 'The Undertaking' and the promise of love as all fear gives way as the light looks after you. Extend yourself. It will be okay.
5
I want to leave you with this poem. It's nearly two years to the day I decided to be formally known as Phoenix, and this poem is to commemorate my commitment to strength and resilience. I know you to be what will bloom.
Thank you for reading. I hope you've liked the poetry.
What poems have you been reading this month?
If you feel like sharing, please send them my way. You can email me at phoenixyemi@gmail.com or you can find me on Instagram @phoenixyemoja
💌 With Love, Phoenix 💌
