Category: 2021 Edition

Prosthetic

by Brianna Jo Hobson

Apron string, tied and undone like an umbilical cord
Stitching needle loops through hypodermic buttonhole

I cinch every waist that dears to breathe,
Every pupil that tears to cry or prickle

Corset skin beset like silken organdy—unraveled, cut, slip knotted,
Kept, like, a woman, I suppose

The presser foot stands on the bulge of my neck,
But I survive, I survive. Every time through the skirt of pleated breath.

Prosthetic scissors are phallic, like Freudian appliqué.
I do what I can, to hide my dysmorphia, like crinoline under a dressing gown form

I slit, I snip, I rip, I sigh, but I can’t thread material to twill free-will
or save my midwife life,

With birthing pangs ruffled and sharpened to needlepoint,
My bleeding heart materializes as wire hanger anger sewn

Mannequin arms, and legs, attached by a string of crewel,
I, lay figure, abortifacient of expectations, am shot, sutured and brutally reused.

Only bodkin eye holes left to pierce and peep tom through

I stab and seam, bind and weave, emotions, only to have them locked away and closeted,

Rope of my rapist’s mother’s homespun tapestry, hangs there, in embroidery, “We always weep what we sew.”

A pincushion of unblinking gender sits in chest; caught mid-swallow,
between lips, amidst deep throat,

Undressed and depressed, crocheted in Kitchener stitch, I am a gentle whore,
Abhorred as a replica bore, forever, an Eve dummy

To be knit upon, hit and, ignored.

Listen to Brianna Jo Hobson read “Prosthetic” below.

Brianna Jo Hobson is a poet, essayist, and short fiction writer from the Bronx. Her work skews more towards horror as she is heavily inspired by folklore, surrealism, dark fairytales, and the gothic subculture. She was one of the recipients of The Award for Outstanding Achievement in Creative Writing in 2020 and is a part of LaGuardia’s graduating class of 2021. She aspires to have a career in book publishing and will be attending Baruch College in Fall 2021, pursuing her Bachelor’s in English. You can find her blog here and find her on Instagram @m0thluv.

Some Questions for Ethan Velez

The editorial team had some questions for Ethan Velez.

What inspired you to write “I Can Carry It All”?

The story came together through some stages. I was having a hard time sleeping one night until I felt this warm, calm breeze that helped me out a lot. Slept like a baby. It turns out that the breeze was hot air from a nearby church burning down. I explained the situation to my sibling, Ash, who said it was good material for a flash fiction piece. It was definitely gradual. The title comes from a Ted Lucas song.

What was your writing process like for this piece?

I spent a lot of time thinking about the piece and how I wanted it to go. I mean a lot of time. To the point where when I finally started writing the first draft, I already knew what I was doing. It was a great feeling. I wish everything I wrote went like that.

How has COVID impacted your creative work?

There was no work. I couldn’t be creative through the pandemic until I started reading and watching what I liked as a kid. I also read a lot of essays by people who were writing about whatever they wanted, which was freeing for a person whose writing felt and read like something I put together for a grade.

Now I write what I want. I’ve truthfully spent the last year feeling like l’ve been learning to write for the first time again.

Horror movies come up quite a bit in this piece, and you mention in your bio that you are a fan. What draws you to the genre? How do horror movies inform your creative work? 

Horror movies had a hand in shaping who I am today, definitely. John Carpenter’s Halloween was one of the first movies I can remember watching as a kid. I remember being terrified, but thrilled, because at the root of a story about a masked criminal stalking teenagers was an ordinary person trying to survive. I was drawn to that. I’m more interested in stories about people trying their best than I’m interested in horror, but I like ghosts and witches, so scary movies have been a good middle ground.

When I’m able to understand and relate to a character who makes it to the end of a horror movie, I better understand myself, and that reflects in my writing. I pull confidence from the Nancy Downs and Barbara Steeles of the world.

Read Ethan Velez’s flash fiction piece “I Can Carry It All.”

Image credit: “Happy Halloween,” eyecmore. Flickr CC BY-SA 2.0.

Something Lost

by Louis Febres

It started out small. Borrowing from brothers, sisters, cousins, and neighbors, until it grew strong enough to stand on its own. We took it from our tiny village as we braved nearby lands, and from the lips of a few it blazed like wildfire. Across cities it went, propagating knowledge, wisdom, and tales of our people. Through it our ancient gods sprang to life, our world was given form, and our heroes gloried in triumphs across terrestrial and celestial battlegrounds. Spoken, written, and sung, it birthed our every thought.  

One morning, the strangers came. If not for their outlandish clothing and ornamentation, they would have appeared to be our brethren from the Eastern border. When we spoke our words of welcome, they were received with bewilderment and returned with jumbled sounds we could not comprehend. And when we presented to them our words of proclamation and law, they met our eyes with scornful gazes and spat upon our parchment and clay.

Soon after, blood was spilled. The fighting lasted many weeks. Their enormous ships piled upon our shores in great flocks, on their backs the never-ending rows of warriors, delivering destruction and death with their strange and barbaric implements. When our cities choked on rot and ruin, and our babes suckled the shriveled breasts of dying mothers, we could no longer resist; we bent our knees, and our land was theirs.

In time, it became small again, like in the early days. It was spoken only by a few elders, but by then the temples were rubble, our halls of learning cinder, and the sacred scriptures and wise words turned ash. And when the elders perished, so too did our language disappear, like a whisper in the sea.

 

Check out our Questions for Louis Febres.

Louis Febres worked by day and studied by night but since the pandemic, it’s been a big blur of work and study from home and he no longer knows when the days begin and end. He knows he was born in Brooklyn and has lived in Queens most of his life. He was once a musician bursting with creativity, and then the 9-to-5, family life, health issues and an assortment of events derailed him. He likes to think he is back on track, finding a new creative outlet in writing, and soldiering on like everyone else.

Image credit: “Languages,” ArTeTeTrA. Flickr CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

It’s a COVID Party

by Shoshanna Soleyn

Watch Editorial Intern Jin Martin’s Interview with Shoshanna Soleyn

 

Shoshanna Soleyn was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, in Crown Heights. She is a Commercial Photography major at LaGuardia Community College. She was first introduced to photography by a friend in 2016, and got her first camera in 2018. She then started to learn how to make images and wanted to learn more about photography. She enjoys doing portrait photography. Shoshanna‘s favorite photographer is Tyler Mitchell, and her favorite filmmakers are Issa Rae, Ava Duvernay, Spike Lee, and many more. She got accepted for LaGuardia’s Camera for Science for 2021. She looks forward to seeing where it will take her in life. Shoshanna is looking forward to graduating from LaGuardia Community College this June with an ASA degree. Shoshanna will be attending Brooklyn College for Film. Find her on Instagram @_shays.photography_.