If you've been paying attention to our social media, you may have seen our announcement that Noah Baldino will be our summer resident for 2017. We're thrilled to welcome Noah, who was the winner of our annual Summer Residency Contest, judged this year by Khadijah Queen. In case you missed it, here's a little bit about Noah and a poem they were kind enough to share with us from their application:
Noah lives and writes in the Midwest, where they are currently pursuing an MFA in Poetry at Purdue University. As a culmination of their two-week residency, Noah will read at the UA Poetry Center on a date TBD. Please stay tuned for more information on this event.
THE BELVEDERE TORSO IS MISSING HIS BREASTS
All of us men huddle around the testicles
of an ancient sculpture, tired of the staring
& missing an upper half. Manhood
in the Classical Period just wasn’t dependent on girth
like now says one. Everybody sighs.
I’m suddenly aware of how my skin catches
my clothes at certain creases, of the barbed
underwire of my bra. What a violent
contrapposto, almost bursting into battle. I think
the feet, two marble throats, might choke
on the cold plinth forever. I draw my own arm
forward to graze the cavity of chest, of where
would be the chest, my hand swatted away
too soon. All the men fold their arms. I’ve never
seen such tender kneecaps, such quiet, shamed
hips. The ferocious divine. Such brutality not possible
in copper or bronze. God, I want them to stop
looking at me. I wish so badly for my broken hands
to cover my breasts. For my muscles to billow
as I turn, finally, my tongue a heavy stone.
All men are fashioned after these old gods. Their bowties
taunt me, blitzing the gallery as my curvature gives me
away. Now thousands stand snickering before me,
ripe with thought, tugging open my stone-smooth jaw,
a banished fresco waiting on the roof of my mouth.