[Remarkable the litter of birds] by Emily Skaja
[Remarkable the litter of birds]
Emily SkajaRemarkable the litter of birds cleared from the city every morning
The ones who flew toward the sky in the reflection of the glass
Dead or stunned I often think given the chance I wouldn’t live my life over
I have just this one heart okay I was burned I was gaslit nearly to ash on the first try
From the start I was told I was a powerful speaker I was told when & how I should speak
It’s true I made a feast of my own misery I invited everyone the whole gang
We ate only flowers it was my misery after all I was 29
I’d had a narrow escape from becoming Julian of Norwich
Finally I felt safe enough to ask Katie Is it antifeminist to starve myself over a boy?
Her response was kind What if we revise the focus of that question
Soon we were eating peonies & lilacs with bees inside
All these marriages had come out to watch me deliver my speech
I filled my mouth with bees I tried to speak through the bees
Everyone if we’re going to talk about love please we have to talk about violence
I was stung my tongue swelled I was spitting crushed bees
A special crew came to sweep them up before anyone could see
MARGINALIA
1.
Dead or stunned. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference. Sometimes we lie there on the pavement, trying to remember which one we are.
2.
Someone’s job is to make the dying invisible.
3.
I often think given the chance I wouldn’t live my life over. Do I dare refuse the fantasy of revision? To say this one heart, this one try, this ash is mine. In all honesty there is a kind of clarity that comes after the fire, after having been nearly undone. And it makes the thought of starting again feel almost offensive.
4.
Haven’t I made a feast of my own misery. Haven’t I set the table, sent the invitations, arranged the flowers of my suffering just so.
5.
Someone’s job is to make the dying invisible.
6.
Perhaps the only way to talk about love is with a mouthful of danger. Perhaps the sting is the point.
7.
If we’re going to talk about love please we have to talk about violence. It is someone’s job to make the dying invisible. Do you understand?
KEEP READING
SHARED WITH GRATITUDE
This poem appeared in Brute by Emily Skaja, published by Graywolf Press, 2019. (Available on: Amazon • Bookshop)
DESCRIPTION
“Emily Skaja’s debut collection is a fiery, hypnotic book that confronts the dark questions and menacing silences around gender, sexuality, and violence. Brute arises, brave and furious, from the dissolution of a relationship, showing how such endings necessitate self-discovery and reinvention. The speaker of these poems is a sorceress, a bride, a warrior, a lover, both object and agent, ricocheting among ways of knowing and being known. Each incarnation squares itself up against ideas of feminine virtue and sin, strength and vulnerability, love and rage, as it closes in on a hard-won freedom.
Brute is absolutely sure of its capacity to insist not only on the truth of what it says but on the truth of its right to say it. “What am I supposed to say: I’m free?” the first poem asks. The rest of the poems emphatically discover new ways to answer. This is a timely winner of the Walt Whitman Award, and an introduction to an unforgettable voice.” (Source)
ABOUT EMILY SKAJA
Emily Skaja is the author of Brute, winner of the Walt Whitman Award from the Academy of American Poets. Her second book, Black Lake, is forthcoming from Graywolf in 2026. She is the founding editor of the Poetry Prompt Generator, and she teaches in the MFA program at the University of Memphis. (Source)
Read more poems by Emily Skaja • Find books by this poet on Amazon • Bookshop • Follow on Instagram • Bluesky • Website • Or view my library
ENDNOTES
- Explore other works in pursuit of: self • mouth • heartache • Or browse the index
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