"Preamble" by Tonya M. Foster

[View this email on a browser]( [Forward to a friend]( [facebook-icon]( [tumblr-icon]( [twitter-icon]( June 3, 2019 [Preamble]( [Tonya M. Foster]( Childless, I am in a house on the ocean-edge of a national park. Nights, I consider broadcast horrors. This is not my house. I am a stranger, a newcomer. So often, too, is the horror. Passes time. Passes time. Past time lights up my liturgical tendencies, illumines past time, my lovelies. Here, in this room, in this house, the light is sometimey as always. Clouds. Wind and all. Pronounced through windows onto woods, onto lawns. Say “Light casts its tender hieroglyphs on the mundane and cataclysmic equally,” and fancify a nothing, go straight for an inaccuracy that distracts and passes time. And light comes before the hieroglyph, and (as marker) these hieroglyphs give meager insight into the “nature” of light beyond some minor perceptions. And what? Shall I ride the alliterative waves of articulation and silence that fog my mouth and mind? Or just let the words like particles roll? See where and what this accrual of syllables gets us? It’s midday, and you are both years before the you to whom this poem whispers, before the women with whom these syllables conspire. Lullaby, loves, this ain’t. I have become a woman who screams softly. Maybe an over- abundance of caution? Of caustic care? Well, I’ve seen the clips and memes, heard the murmurs and corporate decisions meant to mark-up and mock the nature of you that’s well beyond easy perception. In past times, I’ve been medicated out of my self, locked under an atmospheric feeling, the condition of which would not relent, which could will “will not” to relent. Wheels of wheeling won’t re- lent. Absolve your self sunken between Breath breath breathe and the toxic dirt. [Like this on Facebook]( [Share via Twitter]( Copyright © 2019 Tonya M. Foster. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on June 3, 2019, by the Academy of American Poets. [Foster reads "Preamble."]( About This Poem “‘Preamble’ is the opening poem in a collection of epistolary poems largely addressed to my two ten-year-old nieces. More accurately, the poems are addressed to their future adult selves. I attempt to layer familial histories with contemporary social and cultural stories, with collages that seek to situate life and living in the Anthropocene. I want to keep a record of the now of their childhood. Here, the long lines are pitching the voice forward (and sometimes back) through time.” —Tonya M. Foster [Tonya M. Foster]( Tonya M. Foster is the author of A Swarm of Bees in High Court (Belladonna*, 2015) and the co-editor of Third Mind: Teaching Creative Writing through Visual Art (Teachers & Writers Collaborative, 2002). She is an assistant professor in writing and literature at California College of the Arts. She lives in the Bay Area. [A Swarm of Bees in High Court]( Poetry by Foster [A Swarm of Bees in High Court]( (Belladonna*, 2015) "Decompose: Of Immaterial Things" by Erica Mena [read-more]( "Ancestors Are Calling" by T. J. Anderson III [read-more]( "The Artificial Infinite" by Gina Franco [read-more]( June Guest Editor: Samiya Bashir Thanks to [Samiya Bashir](, author of Field Theories (Nightboat Books, 2017), who curated Poem-a-Day for this month’s weekdays. Read a [Q&A with Bashir]( about her curatorial approach this month and find out more about our [guest editors for the year.]( [make a one-time donation]( [illustration]( [Small-Blue-RGB-poets.org-Logo]( Thanks for being a part of the Academy of American Poets community. To learn about other programs, including National Poetry Month, Poem in Your Pocket Day, the annual Poets Forum, and more, visit [Poets.org](. You are receiving this e-mail because you elected to subscribe to our mailing list. If you would like to unsubscribe, please click [here](. © Academy of American Poets 75 Maiden Lane, Suite 901, New York, NY 10038