Jill Khoury writes on gender, disability, and embodied identity. She holds an MFA from The Ohio State University and edits Rogue Agent, a journal that features poetry and art of the body. She has written two chapbooks — Borrowed Bodies (Pudding House, 2009) and Chance Operations (Paper Nautilus, 2016). Her debut full-length collection, Suites for the Modern Dancer, was released in 2016 from Sundress Publications.
o pain:
the wall shivers if you press right here
you want to feel the massive thing
that looks stable but isn’t
but you have no hands so i press for you
you touch my hand to feel shift in lath & plaster
palpitated through flocked wallpaper
i press for you
Ten years ago I was diagnosed with a disorder that causes me to have chronic pain. It has been quite an experience, trying to adjust my way of life to accommodate this new guest. Last year, I started to write a series of lyrics in which pain is a separate entity from my own consciousness, but with whom I share a body. Addressing pain as a newcomer to my body-home has allowed me to both resist and accept this unquantifiable force. Even when I feel like pain has gotten the upper hand, so to speak, these “chronic lyric” poems allow for a transferal of emotional and psychic information between us.