Friday, January 14
READING "WHAT A WASTE" TO COLLEGE BOYS
I write a poem called "What a Waste" about Josey,
about how even though sometimes I want to devour
her whole, it's up to her what happens to the only
body she has. I think this is a funny poem. I think
I'm making a joke about consent, desire, marriage.
Maybe lesbian bed death? Middle age? I don't know.
This may be too meta, even for me. Anyway, I read it
to some students while I'm a visiting writer. Two white
boys raise their soft and earnest hands—so young!
—want to share with me and everyone else
in the room their wide-eyed stories, how sometimes girls
with beautiful bodies just don't want to fuck them.
They both spoke with a kind of wonder, like I get it,
right? Like, how can that even be? And we shook
our heads at the sad injustice of it. Sometimes even I
can't tell when I am kidding anymore. I said I know,
man. Other people's bodies aren't for us. It sucks, right?
And they nodded, taking that in, thinking it over, I guess
for the very first time. Poetry, getting so much nothing done.
(Jill McDonough)