in defense of the word “fuck”
Liam Strong | Poetry, Summer 2024
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.
___________________________________________
Why is this piece your Trace Fossil?
“I'm often compelled by my body's own nonlinear aging. Its half-life, -lives, as if to say it once knew wholeness. With this work, there is retrospect in the framing and language of one's growth. This poem, though it was never intended to be, feels like a poem on the politics of disability, or perhaps of gender, of the ways one's body can't--and shouldn't--remain between the dotted lines of paper. Degenerative scoliosis, pes cavus in the arch of one's foot, where all cursive begins at the ground level of a sentence. Say the word fuck in italics. In cursive. Fuck. American Sign Language, despite being communicated through the arms, the upper body, sometimes forgoes that the entire body is capable of any such letters, words, phrases. The body--or maybe just human willpower--is a work in progress, a fossil waiting for an exhibition of meaning. My body is just that. A fickle thing, sometimes with too much or too little to say.”
Liam Strong (they/them) is a queer neurodivergent straight edge punk writer who has earned their BA 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 Vagabond City and new words {press}, among several others. They are most likely gardening and listening to Bitter Truth somewhere in Northern Michigan. Find them on Instagram/Twitter: @beanbie666
in defense of the word “fuck”
Liam Strong | Poetry, Summer 2024
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.
________________________________________________________________________
Why is this piece your Trace Fossil?
“I'm often compelled by my body's own nonlinear aging. Its half-life, -lives, as if to say it once knew wholeness. With this work, there is retrospect in the framing and language of one's growth. This poem, though it was never intended to be, feels like a poem on the politics of disability, or perhaps of gender, of the ways one's body can't--and shouldn't--remain between the dotted lines of paper. Degenerative scoliosis, pes cavus in the arch of one's foot, where all cursive begins at the ground level of a sentence. Say the word fuck in italics. In cursive. Fuck. American Sign Language, despite being communicated through the arms, the upper body, sometimes forgoes that the entire body is capable of any such letters, words, phrases. The body--or maybe just human willpower--is a work in progress, a fossil waiting for an exhibition of meaning. My body is just that. A fickle thing, sometimes with too much or too little to say.”
Liam Strong (they/them) is a queer neurodivergent straight edge punk writer who has earned their BA 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 Vagabond City and new words {press}, among several others. They are most likely gardening and listening to Bitter Truth somewhere in Northern Michigan. Find them on Instagram/Twitter: @beanbie666