National Poetry Month: HISTORICAL DOCUMENTS by Kelly Forsythe

I am writing an autobiography of myself as

a man. I want to use the word “excavate” here

but I’ll use “imagining” instead, as in / you see me imagining

deep unconscious feelings of manliness. Doesn’t

everyone love tan shoulders? Doesn’t

the wind feel good when you rush

into it—even in Port Townsend when

the stars drop out of hiding into the black

net sky / it is catching it is

freezing & I’m sunburned.

Meditation hasn’t worked. We are writing

about the things we’re afraid of. Your arms /

your arms / you’re giving everything away

This poem is from issue 39.1. You may purchase a copy here.