Taylor Byas is a fun-sized Chicago native. She’s spent her last six years in Birmingham, Alabama, where she received both her Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in English from the University of Alabama at Birmingham. She is currently a first-year PhD student, poet, and Albert C. Yates Scholar at the University of Cincinnati. Her work appears or is forthcoming in New Ohio Review, The Journal, storySouth, Borderlands Texas Poetry Review, and others.


Poets Resist
Edited by Christine Taylor
January 13, 2020

Taylor Byas

Geophagia

“If Mike Espy and the liberal Democrats gain the Senate we will take that first step into a thousand years of darkness.”
— from a tweet by Phil Bryant, Governor of Mississippi, 1/2/2020

They say eating the soil might be good for you. To have your pale chiclet teeth redlined by clay, your ocean-clear mouthwash bloodied when you spit in the sink. Mistake this for a split lip, a back-alley beating that has left the tongue fat enough to rick your cries for help. Your grandmother tells you to avoid the clay cooling in the shade of the taller trees, and you don’t. After rain, the clay goes garnet, clumps of wine-dark up to your elbows, smeared around your lips. My God, you’ve gone cannibal. They say eating the soil might be good for you with all its minerals, the blood that wept from swollen black toes and dried in the shape of another country. In death, someone fed this tree. After a few mouthfuls tonight, you feel a little madness creeping in. You watch the sun set while sitting back on your heels, its half-step into darkness packing the world into red clay. This is blood-warm, the heat of night closing in like a mob. Bribe the sun to set on you instead, let it light you aflame.


This poem was inspired by a tweet from the Mississippi Governor, and in turn made me think about Mississippi’s violent history, along with the history of eating clay.

Poets Resist is published by Glass Poetry Press.
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