five poems
by Kathleen Nalley and Gabrielle Brant Freeeman
Strange Beast
by Gabrielle Brant Freeman
12/31/24
1979, Southern California.
My brother and I slip in from summer
sprinklers and swim practice, prepubescent
rounded bodies wrapped in navy Lycra,
blonde hair greening and heavy with the scent
of chlorine. We flop to the floor, forest
shag, dig in for Godzilla movies,
black and white marathons of monsters
stomping on cities, releasing their rage,
sweeping seismic chaos, like a bomb.
Origin story, indiscriminate
nuclear massacre given form.
All we knew then was to brace for the random
attack, our father’s furious footsteps at the door.
Surviving Fallout
by Kathleen Nalley
12/31/24
After 60 days of no bleeding
for the first time in 41 years (minus
two pregnancy stints), the blush came rushing
back with a vengeance, red tsunami
between my thighs, on the beige cotton sheets,
my legs and back and abdomen aching,
muscles stretched apart, contracting, widening
hips, all over again, where they’d receded.
How many catastrophes occur in
a woman’s body during her lifetime—
detonated bomb, massacre marathon.
Phallopians 4:13: I can do
all things through blood that wrecks me; I can do
fuck all you can do while furiously bleeding.
Realignment
by Gabrielle Brant Freeman
1/1/25
Regrow bone, muscle, cartilage, fat. Multipotent
stem cells are present in each and every
endometrial sloughing, nothing to do
but collect it, but. We have been taught:
Dirty, disgusting, toughen yourself,
hide it, don’t cry about it, resign
yourself to the pain, it’s not a big deal,
every woman goes through it, seven whole years
of uterine lining renewal. Wait,
don’t say uterus, ovulate, menstruate,
can I borrow a tampon, don’t say tampon.
Don’t let anyone know you’re expelling
the most readily available, naturally
occurring, healing fluid known to woman.
New Year, New Outlook
by Kathleen Nalley
1/1/25
Neither venom nor strychnine this seepage
but nectar, elixir, healing cellular
miracle, the secret of great secrets,
this life secretion, sinuous crimson
potion, God substance, maternal concoction,
potent plague killer, mystic medicine,
living liquid, real blood covenant,
birth portender, life extender, monthly
moon goodness, feminine deity sauce,
magical mystery, alchemical
understatement, misunderstood, discarded,
vilified, maligned, monstered, made nasty.
They incinerate placentas after birth.
They burned us at the stake just for being.
Ignition
by Gabrielle Brant Freeman
1/3/25
Outside the Rack & Snack, I cup last light
in my hands, butane flame sculpting sinuous
curves and planes of my teenaged face, my mom’s
magnum opus mirrored in the rearview.
Inside, everyone else uses angle
and force, friction and geometric
decisions to spin phenolic resin spheres
off rails into pockets, rocket and
ricochet this short summer night away.
It is dark, here, by the lake.
Its flat black eye commands, casts a mountain
cracked by asphalt braced in metal, manmade
pact to the Pacific. I promise God
I’ll be good if He just lets me bleed.
Poets’ Note: For 30 days, we wrote sonnets back and forth, taking a word or phrase from one to carry into the next, creating, ultimately, a collection of connected sonnets. The entire collection is slated to be published by Small Harbor Press in November.
Photo of Kathleen Nalley
BIO: Kathleen Nalley is the author of the prose poetry collection, Gutterflower, as well as two chapbooks. Her work has appeared in journals and magazines and anthologized in several collections. She teaches literature and creative writing at Clemson University and currently serves as interim director of the Converse University MFA program.
Photo of Garbrielle Brant Freeman
BIO: Gabrielle Brant Freeman’s award winning and Pushcart nominated poetry has been published in many journals, and Press 53 published her book, When She Was Bad. Freeman’s poetry was included in the creation of the choreopoem A Chorus Within Her performed at Theater Alliance in Washington, DC. She lives in Eastern North Carolina with her family.