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Close Talking: A Poetry Podcast

Episode #155 Buttercream w/Special Guest Caitlin Scarano

08 Apr 2022

Description

Connor and Jack are joined by special guest Caitlin Scarano to discuss the poem "Buttercream" from her new collection THE NECESSITY OF WILDFIRE. The collection won the Wren Poetry Prize, selected by final judge Ada Limón. Scarano discusses the poem, the collection, and the ways her work has taken what she describes as an "environmental turn" since completing THE NECESSITY OF WILDFIRE. She also talks about some of her upcoming projects that blend art with environmental action. Order a copy of the book, here: https://www.blairpub.com/shop/necessity-of-wildfire Learn more about Caitlin Scarano, here:https://www.caitlinscarano.com/ Buttercream By: Caitlin Scarano I cut open an avocado only to find it dappled with rot. I eat it anyway. Because my blood burns, I decide not to have children. My father's father was full of copper. His son, a liver textured with scarring. I ate it anyway. I asked for guidance, not a leash and a collar. I turn my belly inside out - it's dappled with eggs the color of buttercream. My hens don't know which are fertilized and which aren't. My mother lost her wedding ring in vegetable garden dirt. I dig out the rot. I say I decided not to have children but no man ever asked me and meant it. If each parent gives you a defective gene, you can bake a cake or crawl across the floor between buckets of your own blood. I dig but never find the ring. Some hens sit on eggs until they rot. Some men take hammers to their wives. My lover yawns. Of all the stories I could tell, I've learned of all the stories you could tell. Her blood burned. My mother made a red velvet cake with buttercream frosting. She ate the whole thing. She never told anyone who believed her. He might have been sick his whole broken bowl of a life. I might find a golden ring around my iris. I might not be a creature versed in dirt. Anger, like a memory, takes away as much as it provides. Some hens leave their eggs where they land. Either way, we follow. We gather. We eat them. Find us on Facebook at: facebook.com/closetalking 
Find us on Twitter at: twitter.com/closetalking
 Find us on Instagram: @closetalkingpoetry You can always send us an e-mail with thoughts on this or any of our previous podcasts, as well as suggestions for future shows, at [email protected].

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