Artist Statement:
Caitlin Lore wears many hats, one of which she wished was labeled Sorting. Perhaps that would help with the whole “I’m never going to grow up” act. Or at least sort her into Neverland. As a second-time undergrad student, not having figured out her life just yet, English seems to be calling her once again. However, this time it is to teach. Perhaps after all of the classrooms she has been in and all of the jobs she has had which inspire embarrassing memoirs that is why writing calls to her—she gets to be anything she imagines. Her poetry has previously been published in The Tonic and After Images of Indiana State University.
Day 126
I stop by a Rembrandt exhibit
and the first etching I see is entitled:
Death Appears to a Wedded Couple closely followed
by Adam and Eve.
Paradox.
The possibility of incomprehension at his words impels
me to imagine that I’m ok.
Day 128
I glance at a photograph hanging
in a studio window—a mother cradling
her newborn baby girl and suddenly
the womanly, hormonal, urge to birth a child
comes over me
juxtaposed with the thought that he’s turned off the switch
and I’ll never be able to make a child on my own.
Day 129
And then I have to force
life into my body. To force my breakfast down:
two stale pieces of toast,
a chocolate bar,
and bitter, watery coffee.
I threaten it to stay down
thinking that the repugnancy of the bile
in the back of my throat
might help me stop believing in the beautiful.
But then I remember what it felt
like when he kissed me with his soft, strong hands curving
into my jaw.
And I taste it.
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