Dear Imaginary Daughter,

 

There is no heat of you moving beneath my skin, no heartbeat knocking the inner machinery. But the halogens have been flickering for weeks, bees in all the sockets.  Honey in all the spaces no one has licked.  Even at night, my fingers grow slick with figs, my rabbit purse fallen open on the bed. Lewdly, sticking my fingers where they don’t belong.   Boredom is a tangible thing, heavy, like a bed or a suitcase we‘ve tossed everything into that wasn’t on fire. Downstate, I keep wearing shoes that blister my heels, the water rising to the surface where anything rubs too hard or just hard enough. It was always like this, sunburned, each summer, my hair going green at the bottom of the pool. The heat chafing my inner thighs. A mess of biology and awkwardness. But listen to them when they say the trauma of previous generations exists in your infrastructure. Drunk grandmothers and slutty aunts.  The twin you may or may not have eaten in the womb stalking you from the other side of the door. 



​​-from THE SCIENCE OF IMPOSSIBLE OBJECTS

KRISTY BOWEN

An indie press and design studio, dancing girl press & studio creates a variety of open and limited edition books, art, and paper goods. Since 2004, the annual dgp chapbook series, has been devoted to publishing innovative writing by women authors in delectable handmade editions, as well as exploring the intersection of writing and the visual/book arts.

A writer and book artist working in both text and image, Kristy Bowen is the author of a number of zines, chapbooks, and artist book projects, as well as several full length books of poetry/prose/hybrid work, including SALVAGE (Black Lawrence , 2016) and the forthcoming LITTLE APOCALYPSE (Noctuary Press, 2018).  She lives in Chicago, where she runs dancing girl press & studio.