One of the most enriching, forward-thinking, fastest-growing online creative communities flourishing right now is the Poetry community, especially in those scenes that center on marginalized voices — Women, POC, Neurodivergent, and LGBTQ. Poetry Spotlight is a feature aiming to showcase the work of some of the most talented creators we’ve discovered making waves on the Internet literary circles, inside or outside the mainstream. This new installment focuses on the work of American writer Afieya Kipp.
Afieya (she/her) is a queer poet and editor born in Brooklyn, NY. Her work can be found or is forthcoming in The Penmen Review, The Thought Erotic, Pussy Magic Press, Scrittura Mag, Badlands Literary Journal, and more. She is the author of the forthcoming titles, “Investments in Weak Vessels” (Whiskey Tit Books) and “Hopefully You Find Something Meaningful In This” (Vessel Press), as well as “(black)Moans(wane)s” (Vessel Press), which is available via Payhip and Amazon. Afieya received her MA in Poetry from Southern New Hampshire University and a BFA with distinction in Painting from Kean University. Currently, she is a regular contributor at Rose Quartz Journal and is the founder and editor of Vessel Press, an independent, inclusive, electronic micro press committed to publishing the work of powerful womxn.
She lives in northern New Jersey where she carries poems in her wallet and is an MFA candidate at Lindenwood University.
Tech Tantra
Alexa:
play ocean sounds // send specters to my room // find me a vacant skin suit, disease free, in a size 14, please // send a man ready to suck my pessimism through my clit with a straw // balance my anxiety with my depression to make anxression // go back a few years and scream at my parents for being too young and dumb // reorder dental dams // delete my passive aggression with a virtual desktop access lobotomy // wash my feet with rosewater // tell my grandmother she is worthy // drive the aches in my body to personify themselves and burn // make sex a slice of pound cake with lemon curd // extract my uterus and throw it into the void // apologize to the centipedes I’ve killed in a cup of hot water // give me a straight jacket made out of leather next time // box up a kiss a make it taste like that grapefruit, July 2014 // turn my enemies into a designer bag // remind my lesions to heal
The Body Petition
“My knees are hidden beneath the orange earth of the desert, shovel in hand, the body of my husband, in half, the torso empty, drained of its blood, the hair of his beard in the palm of my pink hands, fingernail imprints like half moons. I wanted to devour him–the body suit of brown skin like a lacquered walnut shell and eyes like peas pressed into dough.”
“And, did you? Devour him…” said the lawyer.
“I am allergic to walnuts, peas make me nauseous and dough is best cold, un-kneaded.”
“No further questions.” said the lawyer.
Sour Blue Popsicles
irate
writhing under the weight of machismo
broken men are the photographs I’ve placed in time capsules and buried deep.
i am going to prove how much I love you:
I am going to pick you up from the field of dead flowers and wash you in a steel basin
I will make a hot cup of tea tears and drown you in it
I am going to catch the demon that haunts you, roast it, and serve it to your enemies
I will swaddle you in silk and wait five days for you to emerge cerebral and unflinching
I am going to dance nude in a circle of candles while you are tied up to test your desire
I will hold a knife to your neck and force you to make eye contact with my broken heart
I am going to make a divine nest of your carcas against your will and pour electricity into it
I dare you to test my allegiance to you once more.
