bit of morning poetry
like the way that dried
petals
rolled into tiny balls
create a string
con du it
a wrench or
a strategically place
shaft
of light
or the strong arm
in plaster
(iconography)
Collective Nora excerpt
For some of them, it was exciting to give this trip a name, the Collective Nora, the name that they all slipped into and felt stretchy and smooth around them, like an amorphously shaped tent of brightly-colored spandex, that they could press their bodies into and make a larger unusual shape out of, or huddle in the middle of and not be noticed.
Some of them had named themselves before—
when they had been a Many-Headed Monster;
when many of some of them managed a coffee shop together and there were lots of incarnations of vaginas;
when they had traveled in a car together moving to a new part of the country, drinking canned beers in the backseat and talking in dialects that they couldn’t shake;
when they had been part of a Feminist Utopia that ended with a baja-boy contest, that traveled in a genderless van and woke some of them with a flaming birthday candle and traded grilled sandwiches for coconut rum drinks, that took many polaroid pictures and divided them equally at the end of the trip; for some of them, to be in this large a Collective, it felt like a coven.
***
The Collective Nora says, “That’s good.”
The Collective Nora is women’s bodies and trans’ bodies and is mostly white. The Collective Nora is so gay, is such a lesbian, and is queer and a femme tomboy, and is “straight and feminist” and is in long-term relationships with a few men, and at last is ready to date again. The Collective Nora is able-bodied but also figuring out what “strong feels like.” The Collective Nora has had addictions and has hurt themselves and has blacked out and feels so many feelings. The Collective Nora has lots of divorced parents and some that are still together and some that never were.
-jess heaney
