A Worm Moon In May
Welcome to A Worm Moon, a poetry newsletter where I, Phoenix Yemi, share what I've been reading and writing through the month.
There were flowers in May, but overall it was rocky terrain. Though at this point, I think it's me and not the month, and I need to make peace with the fluctuations. I started reading Catching The Light by Joy Harjo. It's a lyrical meditation about why we write poetry, of how she came to poetry, and what it has given her. I think I reached for it because of the title, and how it feels like so much of this year I've been fumbling in the dark, hoping for something to change. I want to share chapter 38 with you. It's only two pages so I've scanned it for you below. Every poem is a prayer.
1
In the last Worm Moon, the first poem I shared began 'Look how dark the spring is'. It's the title of this poem, and when I was writing it, I was thinking about Noor Hindi's poem 'Fuck Your Lecture on Craft, My People Are Dying'. I was thinking about what she says about flowers, about privilege, about the harsh realities of Palestinian life under occupation and the role of poetry. We are all connected and we must continue to resist, to protest & boycott. It's easier to lean into despair, to let the brutality numb you, but what we must stay is present and hold our governments accountable. Hope is revolutionary. The work must continue. Free Palestine. Free Congo. Free Sudan. May we witness liberation.
2
A cento is a poem made up of lines from other poets. It's one of my favourite ways to play with poetry and it's been a while since I've shared one. Today I’m playing with Audre Lorde & Louise Glück. They both have a poem called 'Gemini', and I was able to weave in my own voice as well, so I called the cento Gemini #3. The sentiment is all of you is welcome. The first poem is Audre Lorde, the second is Louise Glück, and the third is my cento.
3
A poem reflecting on unrequited love. I couldn't locate the heartache until I was reminded that love is still love even if it's not returned. I wrote it because I want to rid myself of him, of the urgency of wanting him. I also want to share this poem by Clifton Gachagua with you. I read it and I'm back inside the wanting. I read the last line and all I can say is he knows; I feel seen; I'm not alone in my heartache.
4
There's an interview with the poet Diane Seuss by another poet Hanif Abdurraqib. They're discussing her latest collection Modern Poetry, and although the poems below are from her 2022 collection frank: sonnets, I want to share it with you. It's titled 'A Poet’s Reckoning with What Poetry Can Do' and reading it re-anchored me to the why, to how I can let go and let the poetry hold me. Below are three poems by Diane Seuss. My favourite begins 'All things now remind me of what love used to be.' and I think about the 'cemetery horse', the 'purple-blue emptiness' and the 'echo of my own breath'. And here is a link to a soul-lifting poem by Hanif Abdurraqib called 'I Was Told the Sunlight Was a Cure'
5
After love comes love, hopefully requited. In this poem it is already here. In itself it's romantic, but love extends beyond eros and really I hope that this is a loving summer.
P.S. A poem by Derek Walcott where love is not all about the other. It's you. I tend to lose sight of myself in the face of rejection, it's like I've attached all my worth to somebody else's eyes and if they're not seeing me then I don't exist. It's how you end up abandoning yourself, and that's definitely something I'm guilty of. Here is 'Love After Love' by Derek Walcott. I love it for how it begins, that 'the time will come' and 'you will love again the stranger who was your self'. That is certain.
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 💌
