Tupelo 20/30: The Treed Lady

Dear Reader, 

There are ten days remaining! Pinch me!

Friends, what a wonderful project this has been. I want to thank you for following this blog and for sharing your kindness. Your support has kept me going. 

Throughout this month, I have accumulated a lot of notes, handwritten and transcribed audio drafts. I've been ravenous for material (it's thirty poems, people!) and because I am writing so many poems to fulfill your donation requests, I need a bank of images/ideas to sift through to see if today any of these might stick to _____ topic/title request. 

My friend and fellow writer Elizabeth Catanese was one of the first to donate (thank you, Elizabeth!), and she gave me a phrase, instead of five random words: "home of the original mango." 

Could it be a title? A premise poem? An origin story? Simply an image/metaphor in a line? 

That little phrase has finally found its home in today's poem "The Treed Lady." 

One of the threads of my manuscript-in-progress is a series of poems that gives voice to various women performers, including female magicians, daredevils, and sideshow acts. You've seen my most recent "Out Slink the Striped Cats," which features a tiger-taming mother, and I have two poems in this series forthcoming in literary journals: "Disappearing Lady" in RHINO and "When I Was the Diving Girl" in the Pittsburgh Poetry Review. 

As I sifted through the pages of notes I've taken in the past three or four days, I found a short description of when some jerky boy stuck gum in my hair in CCD class. It was written in prose, and it highlighted how after he didn't receive a punishment I took it upon myself to punch him, and then I, for punishment, had to write a report on one of the saints. I dropped out of CCD shortly thereafter. 

Okay, now you know the memory. It couldn't be a poem because I'm not permitting myself to discover anything about it. But what if I let something magical happen? What if my mother didn't pick the gum out? 

Here is an excerpt from "The Treed Lady" (read the full poem on Tupelo Press' 30/30 blog): 

"When the boy in my bible class planted a wad

of Bazooka Joe at the root of my skull, he didn’t

expect a sapodilla to grow. Wrist-thick trunk

tangled in tresses overnight, white sap gumming

cotton sheets, my lilac pajama sleeves. Smell

of something sweet, green–not grass or home

of the original mango. A miracle for having

forgiven this boy for putting his hands on me,

no penitence for his trespass in the garden

of my hair...."

Readers, thank you for continued support. 

There are ten days left in the month! Ten days! 

I now have THREE remaining titles available. If you would like to claim one of these, please see my first posting for incentive amounts and make your way to the Tupelo Press donation page. Be sure to select my name from the scroll down tab titled "Is this donation in honor of a 30/30 poet?" After you've donated, be sure to email (edigiorgio@gmail.com) or Facebook message me your requests. I don't want to miss your request!

Of course, once I am out of titles, you can still select five words for a poem, give me a potential theme/topic, offer a formal challenge, or receive a chapbook at the end of this project. And if you're enjoyed reading poetry this month, you might consider a subscription to Tupelo. You'll receive 9 books for $99, which is a steal! You can also *gift* this subscription to someone else (including me!)...I have friends and students who would be delighted to be the recipient. 

Yours in poetry,

Emari