About “Cash,” “Boutonniere,” & “Almost”

1. What was your motivation for writing “Cash,” “Boutonniere,” & “Almost”?

They’re based on memories. All of my poems have elements of truth and elements of fiction—never all one or the other. “Cash” is based on a trip I took to New York City a few years ago. My dad was there, and he handed me “walking around money,” which was a wad of twenties. I thought recording/inventing the way I spent that money would be an interesting slice-of-life piece and a way of remembering the trip. “Boutonniere” is based on my prom experience. Yes, I didn’t have a boutonniere! But I also wanted to capture the undertones of coercion and sense of inadequacy in that relationship. “Almost” is my way of adding to the discourse on suicidal ideation in general and on isolation and despair during the pandemic in particular. 

2. What challenges—if any—did you have writing your poems?

When I write a poem, I try to create a narrative through images. “Cash” is a list piece of objects, but it does tell a story. “Boutonniere” and “Almost” are more obviously narrative, but I wanted to capture emotion through description without being overt. I enjoy playing with those elements—story, image, and feeling—and I often reshape those relationships during revision.

3. What is your favourite line—if any—in “Cash”?

I like the makeup lines! “Glitter eye shadow—/Mario, Huda, Natasha Denona” is a fun pair of lines because of the brand names. If you look up these brands and their glitter eye shadow palettes in particular, you’ll catch a glimpse of what I was wearing and who I was or wanted to be at the time. And the last line, “Red Icon lipstick,” is a fun way to close. What’s more iconic than red lipstick? And yes, Icon is the name of the tinted lip balm by Fresh Sugar.

4. What is your favourite line—if any—in “Boutonniere”? 

It’s probably “spittle of baby’s breath—” because it’s unexpected. Baby’s breath is supposed to be fresh, soft, and precious, and it’s something people associate with weddings. But I wanted readers to pull a different set of feelings from the corsage and the poem.

5. What is your favourite line—if any—in “Almost”? 

“the tiny wrapped presents and locked/safes of thought, of hope, of imagination/fell into black water” are my favorite lines because I think they encapsulate what happened to a lot of people during the pandemic and what happens in suicidality. We don’t realize how many of these treasures we have until they’re suddenly soggy and irretrievable. 

6. What do you want people to walk away with after reading “Cash,” “Boutonniere,” & “Almost”?

I want readers to recognize something of themselves and experience self-compassion.

7. Is there anything else you would like to talk about regarding “Cash,” “Boutonniere,” & “Almost” that hasn’t been asked?

I wrote all three poems around the same time (in the last year or two years), but they record or reinvent far-apart days. I don’t think writers should feel temporally trapped in what they write. I’ve written about that trip, that prom, that breakdown before, and I’ll write about them again. We revisit memories and impressions differently at different ages.

Reading

1. What are you currently reading?

Self-Care for Winter by Suzy Reading and The Witching Hour, an anthology of winter ghost stories.

2. Do you have a favourite book? If so, what is it?

An impossible question, but probably Jane Eyre. 

3. What is your favourite poet or author, if any?

Francesca Lia Block. Other favorites include Amy Gerstler and Ada Limon. 

4. Do you gravitate towards reading genres outside the ones you write?

Oh yes. Last year, my top genres were horror, poetry, and personal growth. I’d like to write in all of those genres eventually.

Writing

1. Why do you write?

I’ve always been a writer, whether or not I was any good at it. Reading and writing are inhaling and exhaling for me. They are how I process the external and internal worlds.

2. What do you love about being a poet?

Poems are so compact. I love creating a bullion cube of story, images, and feelings, reducing the experience or impression to its essence. A reader can let the poem sit in their consciousness and expand to encompass their own memories and dreams or nightmares.

3. What time of the day do you write, and do you have a writing routine?

I attend a weekly online workshop with Shuly Cawood through Press 53. It’s on Tuesdays at noon, when I am the only person at home. That’s when I draft most of my new poems. But I write for hours most days, usually in a long-form journal. 

4. Where do you get your ideas from?

Anything I remember, see, or feel. It can start with any one of those elements, and I weave the others in, often with a heavy dose of imagination.

5. How long does it take you to write your projects?

I can draft three poems during a one-hour workshop if the prompts are provoking. But I usually let a draft sit in a notebook for months. Then, I come back to it, and I have enough objectivity (sometimes I don’t remember the poem) to see whether it’s worth keeping and, if it is, what needs to change. But I continue to revise poems I wrote twenty years ago.

6. What advice would you give to other authors/writers/poets?

Let your work sit. Produce new drafts constantly and let them ferment as long as you can. When it’s not so raw, you can revise and see what to do with the work.

7. What project(s) are you currently working on?

I have a chapbook of poems, Saxophones and Dripping Faucets, available for preorder from Finishing Line Press. I just finished manuscripts for another chapbook and or a full-length collection. I’m also working on a young adult fantasy series.