[Listen to this, flies against the thick]
grace (ge) gilbert | Poetry
Listen to this, flies against the thick
panes. Did you know that people had
to wash their own windows of the
smog? To have clean windows was
to have status, like my sister with all
her marriage beads. Both when I started
and when I stopped communing with
God, I threw away all of my old
journals. Nobody saw us kiss behind
that lighthouse. To have windows at all
is to have a clearer view of nothing.
When I punched the girl on the soccer
field, his mother turned away. To die
delicately is still to die. In tenderness
and fire, the photo emulsifies. Here you
are, an ember that goes out. You don’t
have to tell me who you are. I know
and I don’t know.
grace (ge) gilbert (they/them) is a poet, writer and collage artist. they received their MFA in poetry from the University of Pittsburgh in 2022, where they now teach. they are the author of Holly (YesYes Books, 2026), a hybrid image and text book about the 1976 murder of their paternal grandmother, as well as three chapbooks: the closeted diaries: essays (Porkbelly Press, 2022), NOTIFICATIONS IN THE DARK (Antenna Books, 2023) and today is an unholy suite (Barrelhouse, 2024). their work can be found in 2023’s Best of the Net Anthology, the Indiana Review, Ninth Letter, Adroit and elsewhere. They teach hybrid collage and poetics courses at Brooklyn Poets, Minnesota Center for Book Arts, and other institutions.