4 Poems by Jennifer Dane Clements

BY JENNIFER DANE CLEMENTS

the needle/work variations
drawn from the stitchings of Nelly Custis Lewis

Note: These are currently displayed as a part of an exhibition at the Woodlawn Mansion in Virginia (also known as the house George Washington gifted his granddaughter). The show runs through march 31. 

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Hillary Waters Fayle

Hillary Waters Fayle

Hillary Waters Fayle

Hillary Waters Fayle

Hillary Waters Fayle

Hillary Waters FayleHillary Waters Fayle

Hillary Waters Fayle

Hillary Waters Fayle

Variation I

every stitch
counted

woven histories
like petticoat folds
beneath your muslin gown

we are meant
for making.

spill your words.
a sampler
a grammar

a craftsmanship of letters
cousin to
embroidery or filigree
or plainwork or painting.

is it a feminine trait
to absorb and reshape,
to ornament the world
not in beauty       but in meaning

and constraint

to dispatch parts of self
enveloped
to others

and like colonial children
three of every seven
               fail to thrive

we do this for those
that may endure.
 

Variation II

every stitch
shall be counted.

so obsess.

it is a woman’s work
arranging like daffodils or constellations
filaceous shade and shadow

what forms a thread but fiber and care
what forms a fiber but proof of life:
a cotton bud, a lamb’s mottled fleece
or wormspun silk
or you.

so embroider.

it is a woman’s work
to layer new life upon the old,
a woman’s body constructed
for its own remaking.

everything cloaks its meaning
in something else
(we call this beauty
or symbol
or preservation)

and what forms a word
but a thread spun of letters
what forms a letter
but proof of a hand

are these words threads
or are these threads words

pigmented
pin-pricked

I have remade
and sent myself to you.

look now, Elizabeth:
your fingertips
smeared thick with
ink and blood.
 

Variation III

every stitch
counted

thread-made things
in female-governed spaces:
harpsichord, piano
bracelets beaded in seed-small glass.

these hands
intractable makers
conductors of string.

look:

a firescreen.

its basket of flowers
tactile and scentless
save the memory of berries
bacciferous pigment dreams,
stitches the age of a nation.

it was blue once
the way a song tethers memory
the thread’s song is blue

yellows deepened to ochre
whites dusted to gray
still blue is most willing to fade

as though a lesson
on age, or sunlight

each thread traces a different path
counting only its own rows
they may take years to complete.

I have stitched without planning
it has landed me here
yet always there is a design.

thread will not ask its reason
its pattern

but like a good skeptic
I do.
 

Variation IV

every stitch
counted

we have worked by candlelight
for hours now
or do I mean days,
or do I mean decades

let us not suggest the process is delicate
a pierce repeated
through and through

tell me where creation occurs
without rupture
I dare you.

thimbles and revolution
obsessions of different scale

the fall and the falciform
the carmine of cochineal
your dye a siren acid.

let us not suppose women are delicate
a puncture repeated
through and through.

tell me where creation occurs
without rupture
even counted, even planned.

let us not suppose we do this
only to pass the hours

I am this thread
and tapestry needle

the wounded fabric

the loveliest
and most colorful
carnations and daffodils
tattooed on me
as on canvas.

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Jennifer Dane Clements is a writer and editor based in Washington, DC. Her work has been featured in publications including Barrelhouse, Hippocampus, WordRiot, Psychopomp, and The Intentional. She holds an MFA in creative writing from George Mason University, and is currently working on a collection of creative nonfiction. Jennifer has received fellowships from the Fulbright Commission and the DC Commission on the Arts and Humanities, as well as nominations for the Pushcart Prize, the Larry Neal Writer's Award, and the Best of the Net Award, among other honors. She serves as a judge for the Helen Hayes Awards and volunteers as a teaching artist at the Sitar Arts Center.

That's So Gay

BY TANMOY DAS

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Tanmoy Das lives with their partner Eric and a pea plant in New York City. Their poems have appeared or are forthcoming in several online journals.

Incantation Poetry to Conquer the Darkness — The Luminous Project

BY LISA MARIE BASILE

The below poems are samples of what's to come from our Luminous e-book, which will be available in the coming days. It will available for a $1 and 100% the proceeds will go toward Planned Parenthood. When donations are made, receipts will be available publicly on this website. 

I solicited for The Luminous project this past fall as a way to combat darkness. It, in all honesty, felt like the right thing to do — to give voice, to make a space for beauty. But I will be honest: part of it felt futile. I was in such pain (as we all were) and everything felt pointless, misdirected, weak. How could poetry enact change or fight against immorality? How could we find magic? I struggled with the idea that, in the face of such absolute disarray, the arts even had a place. But this is the United States and art, poetry, song has always had a renaissance in times of fear and oppression and hatred. It always will, and in many ways, that is what's remembered long after the battles and the wars and the infighting and the opposing sides. 

Things have always been painful. But there is so much at stake, for so many people here and around the world. Which is why power is in the small things — saying hello to a stranger, listening up when we need to, sharing a poem, doing a kindness. And in the more specific: marching, protesting, organizing, signing up to learn more about conflict resolution. Nothing is too big or too small, I realized, especially when reading these poems. That we were flooded with statements — spell-poems — that called to inner power and resolution (although all different in nature) said something to me. It said that we unite when we need to. And just knowing that makes a vast difference. You're not alone. We're not alone.

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Dianca London

Anthony Michael Morena

Emily Rose Cole

Paakhi Bhatnagar

Raquel Vasquez Gilliland

Yi Wu

Kailey Tedesco

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Lisa Marie Basile is the author of APOCRYPHAL and the chapbooks Andalucia and war/lock. She is the editor-in-chief of Luna Luna Magazine, and her work has appeared in PANK,  The Atlas Review, Tin House, Coldfront, The Rumpus Best American Poetry, PEN American Center, Dusie, The Ampersand Review, and many other publications. She’s an essayist and journalist as well. She holds an MFA from The New School.