We are delighted to present this week’s selections from the Brain Mill Press 2017 Poetry Month Contest. We received many outstanding entries, from which this piece by Sully Pujol stood out. We hope you’ll enjoy it as much as we did.
Because I was not lonely
I knocked on your bedroom door: because I’mnot seeking access to your most private thoughts,dusty gems in costume shops,
because I heard a silence I couldn’t shake,full of things you wouldn’t push past your lips.
I started to wrench words, like teeth
and watched them drop, and drop, and dropwhile the blood fled my fingers.
Because I wanted to catch you,
unwind you, reweave your design.Because there was room in my suitcase, and empty spools.
Those nights were chilled, my skin all snow and salt;because our doors were closed,
that night of your mourning,the eve of my hangover.
Because I didn’t come with you,
didn’t see those crusted-over jewels, didn’t pack my bagwith a little of your pain.
I will graduate from Lewis and Clark College in exactly one month with a bachelor’s degree in English and another in Hispanic Studies. My plan is to continue working in libraries while reading and writing for personal enjoyment. I’m planning to delve deeper into poetry and continue writing short pieces and longer blogs. Both poetry and the journal-blog format are fulfilling creative outlets for me, particularly during moments of personal and interpersonal growth. I doubt I will ever stop writing.
BMP Celebrates National Poetry Month
The theme of teaching and learning poetry, and our emphasis on student poets, speaks directly to the action of poetry in our country and global community. Never has the education of our students been so threatened, and never has truth been more challenged than in the current political climate. The truth emerges through education and the resistance and questions of our youngest generation, and it is their lead we absolutely must follow if they are to live in a society that fosters their achievements, liberation, and justice. Truth emerges through poetry as well — poetry bears witness to what truths seem impossible to speak any other way. Its constraints limit the temptation to misconstrue, obscure, and bury.
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