by Liam Strong
in elementary i couldn’t contain my cursive
between dotted lines, the blue-white high-
way strung with prayer beads.
like my legs informing that yes
i know what it means to curl
my tongue yes i know the hand bears
its own dialect yes i know how the abdomen
of a capital S gloats with penumbra.
when the whorl of guilty notes
read like sheet music, i am heard.
loud & clear. we were ordered again
& again to curve the gushing belly
of our g’s until they exclaimed
with desire. i used to curse
because my parents cursed. what i was not taught
of language, i learned instead
from the crinkling of my body
like vending machine lunch
unraveling until
it dropped. when i write my favorite
curse in cursive, it looks like a key,
an opening, sounds like i want
you, i want you, i want you.
Liam Strong (they/them) is a queer neurodivergent cottagecore straight edge punk writer who has earned their B.A. in writing from University of Wisconsin-Superior. They are the author of the chapbook everyone’s left the hometown show (Bottlecap Press, 2023). You can find their poetry and essays in Impossible Archetype and Emerald City, among several others. They are most likely gardening and listening to Bitter Truth somewhere in Northern Michigan.