ISSN: 1941-4137
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
POETRY THAT ENACTS THE ARTISTIC AND CREATIVE PURITY OF GLASS
Siaara Freeman is 27 years of dramatic entrances and exits from Cleveland Ohio, where she is the current Lake Erie Siren. She wasn't sure if she was a poet or a necromancer, but a wise man named Jacob told her she could be both one day and so she is. She's been published in Glass, Pinch, Drunk In A Midnight Choir, Texas Borderline Review, Black Napkin Press and others. She has toured both nationally and internationally (including Canada, Costa Rica and Norway). A two time nominee for the Pushcart Prize, a finalist for the 2017 Button Poetry Chapbook competition and a part of 2017 Bettering American Poetry anthology. Siaara is a four year PinkDoor Fellow and a co-coach of the 2017 BNV Detroit team. She is the founder of Wusgood.Black and a reader for Tinderbox. In her spare time she is growing her afro so tall God mistakes it for a microphone and tries to speak through her.
Also by Siaara Freeman:
Three Poems
This Way Home
It Is Hard To Tell Someone On Fire That You Are On Fire
Previously in Glass: A Journal of Poetry:
Urban Girl & The Answer-less Hearts
Urban Girl Writes A Poem After She Hears About The Pulse OR Her Heart Breaks & The Poem Splits In 2
Upon Being Told It's Not A Real Job Or The Siren Sees A Tiger
Aboard A Ship & Makes A Metaphor
Aboard A Ship & Makes A Metaphor
When my feet feel like four miles of my own decision making
I smile the stripper's smile, I blink blank and lust the tiger out
Her stripes are black as mine, you inch in — think you want to see
Her teeth, until you see past them, the gallows hanging there
Pink and swaying. The cave in which they hang, lit only by fire
And you can't see who started it. It smells sweet and archaic —
Like a grave filled with love letters. Any further and you will fall
Into the pit. Any further and you will look down, you will see all
The bodies and wonder how they got there. You won't believe
They are real. You won't believe I am real either. What else but
Magic could convince a human it won't bite?
When i wrote this poem i was listening to Cardi B's Bodak Yellow.
As I write this description, I am listening to Cardi B's Bodak Yellow.
It is an aesthetic — It is a mood. — It is a BIG mood. It's half clapback
half prayer. A quiet power placed where you did not expect it to be.
I tried to praise that power.
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
All contents © the author.
All contents © the author.
