On reading Amber Dawn’s “How I Got My Tattoo”

Of late, I seem to be drawn to lesbian poets, or

in the metaphysical realm, they to me.

I don’t seek them out, they’re not my singular intention,

and my iPhone doesn't sound an alarm when a lesbian writes a poem.

  

But in seeking-out poems, generally, they show-up with their goods

and when they do they take over, captivating my sensibilities.

It’s not surprising that this revelation is happening now, after reading

Dawn’s hill & gully glissando of time, and its struggles with her beloved

Valentine, who intrigues me through the poet's descriptive reminiscences.

The setting of a scene: they order a pizza. Amber wants green olives.

Valentine wants green peppers and bellyaches. Amber whacks Valentine

with the receiver of a land-line telephone. ––sort of.

I welcome the periodic phenomenon, and my approach is determined,

but cautionary, and I admire the confessional sincerity and the ferocity

of conviction.

Notation:

(When I chose to use the above "glissando" as a description of the poem,

I was reaching for an example not directly tied to poetics, so

when it came to mind, (even though it's a stretch)  I jumped on it

like a bloodthirsty tick to an unlucky capillary, and–– well,–– there it is.)

7/12/22