Virginia Konchan
Diptych
Anyone can pretend to be calm, right?
Anyone can paint clouds, or light?
I once was lambasted by an ex
for “asserting my aesthetic.”
My aesthetic: transparent neuroticism.
I can't stop the flow of signification.
How am I supposed to annotate
this text without sound?
Not choosing is a choice,
but I was born a believer—
I see the dolorous eyes
of Mary in whorls of diesel and wood.
If it weren't for my secular patrons,
I would make devotional art.
Asymmetry, I've been down this
road before. Still, I ignored the
instructions telling me you were
flammable: capable of exploding,
even, shaken can of kerosene.
I am a proprietary blend of perilla,
French sorrel, and other rare herbs:
I am a home reno gone wrong.
My spirit guide is Thor, ancient
hoary god of Norse Mythology,
responsible for thunder and song.
None of this is making any sense.
Forgive me: I don't have an other.
I haven't had a body for so long.
Virginia Konchan is the author of two poetry collections, Any God Will Do (Carnegie Mellon, 2020) and The End of Spectacle (Carnegie Mellon, 2018); a collection of short stories, Anatomical Gift (Noctuary Press, 2017); and four chapbooks, as well as coeditor (with Sarah Giragosian) of Marbles on the Floor: How to Assemble a Book of Poems (University of Akron Press, 2022), her creative and critical work has appeared in The New Yorker, The New Republic, The Believer, Boston Review, and elsewhere. virginiakonchan.com
Return to July 2020 Edition
Anyone can pretend to be calm, right?
Anyone can paint clouds, or light?
I once was lambasted by an ex
for “asserting my aesthetic.”
My aesthetic: transparent neuroticism.
I can't stop the flow of signification.
How am I supposed to annotate
this text without sound?
Not choosing is a choice,
but I was born a believer—
I see the dolorous eyes
of Mary in whorls of diesel and wood.
If it weren't for my secular patrons,
I would make devotional art.
Asymmetry, I've been down this
road before. Still, I ignored the
instructions telling me you were
flammable: capable of exploding,
even, shaken can of kerosene.
I am a proprietary blend of perilla,
French sorrel, and other rare herbs:
I am a home reno gone wrong.
My spirit guide is Thor, ancient
hoary god of Norse Mythology,
responsible for thunder and song.
None of this is making any sense.
Forgive me: I don't have an other.
I haven't had a body for so long.
Virginia Konchan is the author of two poetry collections, Any God Will Do (Carnegie Mellon, 2020) and The End of Spectacle (Carnegie Mellon, 2018); a collection of short stories, Anatomical Gift (Noctuary Press, 2017); and four chapbooks, as well as coeditor (with Sarah Giragosian) of Marbles on the Floor: How to Assemble a Book of Poems (University of Akron Press, 2022), her creative and critical work has appeared in The New Yorker, The New Republic, The Believer, Boston Review, and elsewhere. virginiakonchan.com
Return to July 2020 Edition