Hollow Women<\/p>\n
My smile is a cloak that covers everything. I speak<\/em> <\/p>\n Don\u2019t feel sorry for us, medicate Don\u2019t call child protective services, assume Believe me, I keep discovering my house Just give me Halloween\u2014 Give me All Hallows\u2019 Eve\u2014 So let me mourn when nobody\u2019s died. And don\u2019t let hollow women burn it up, grin, summon <\/p>\n <\/p>\n “Hollow Women” is forthcoming in In Broken Latin,<\/em> 2012, University of Arkansas Press<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Annette Spaulding-Convy\u2019s<\/a>\u00a0full length collection,\u00a0In Broken Latin<\/em>,<\/a> will be published by the University of Arkansas Press (Fall 2012) as a finalist for the Miller Williams Poetry Prize.\u00a0Her chapbook,\u00a0In The Convent We Become Clouds<\/em>,<\/a> won the 2006 Floating Bridge Press Chapbook Award. She is a 2011 Jack\u00a0Straw fellow<\/a>\u00a0and her poems have appeared in\u00a0Prairie Schooner, North American Review, Crab Orchard Review<\/em>\u00a0and in the\u00a0International Feminist Journal of Politics<\/em>, among others.\u00a0<\/em>She is co-editor of the literary journal,\u00a0Crab Creek Review<\/em>,<\/a> and is co-founder of Two Sylvias Press,<\/a> which has published the first eBook anthology of contemporary women\u2019s poetry, Fire On Her Tongue<\/em>.<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Hollow Women My smile is a cloak that covers everything. I speak as if my very heart is in love with God. What hypocrisy. From the Letters of Mother Teresa Don\u2019t feel sorry for us, medicate us, don\u2019t meditate … Continue reading
\n as if my very heart is in love with God. What hypocrisy.<\/em>
\nFrom the Letters of Mother Teresa<\/p>\n
\nus, don\u2019t meditate on us with rainbow energy.<\/p>\n
\nmy husband isn\u2019t getting any, don\u2019t
\nbring me a week\u2019s worth of zucchini lasagna.<\/p>\n
\nis not a convent and this kitchen not a chapel.
\nThere isn\u2019t a room where the paring knife hole
\nin my side can bleed its nothing, bleed
\nits nothing without interruption.<\/p>\n
\none black and white nun costume to trick
\neven Jesus, a loaf of pan de muerto<\/em>
\nto feed the thin cratered moon.<\/p>\n
\nan orange vegetable metaphor with a silver
\nspoon. Scooped and emptied, I\u2019m wrapping
\nevery damn seed that tangles me
\nin yesterday\u2019s newspaper, chicken feed.<\/p>\n
\nI swear it\u2019s less like navel-gazing and more like the black
\nhole of my gut, my white cell pleiades
\nspinning in the part of the painting the artist leaves blank.<\/p>\n
\ntheir brooding letters like straw.
\nRemind them sometimes even saints suck<\/p>\n
\ngrace from a god-empty breast.<\/p>\n