Aimee Herman

how to love without forgetting where it came from

Did you look up tonight?

                                                See that thick moon, curved into the sky
                                                 notice                it will go away if you forget

                                notice the smell she leaves inside magazines

the shape she makes when pressed against red-linen’d mattress

                      her bone structure           Eastern European lineage           her thumb
                      slung into bent silver                      her appetite:                      she forgets
                      to eat lunch sometimes

notice the dent against her skull           when boys pushed her down because she was too           homo

                       I thought I could handle someone else’s trauma, but
                                               I can barely pronounce my own.

notice her heels           frozen oceans cracked against feet            hair            detangled due to boredom and persistence            her
hipbone             her chin            freckles that gather in the summertime and worry the cancer

notice her push           press of salt and blood against western earth           grow
into thunders

Aimee Herman, a performance poet, hates labels, though occasionally wears one to rip off and count the hairs pulled. Her poetry can be read in Uphook Press’s poetry anthologies: hell strung and crooked and you say. say plus Pregnant Moon Review, Polari Journal, Mad Rush, Cake Train, and/or journal, Sous Les Paves, Polari Journal, InStereo Press and Cliterature Journal. She works as an erotica editor for Oysters & Chocolate, as a curator/host for monthly erotica and GLBT lit readings and can be found writing poems on her body in Brooklyn. Her full-length book of poetry, to go without blinking, will be published by BlazeVOX Books in Spring 2012. Find her here.