When You’re Able to Read


I’ll write you a book of glass rooms: filled with dusty bottles, a rocking chair made from sand & lightning in sheets—walls colored caramel like dried blood or bourbon—imagine wearing a suit that tastes like iron—coins trickling delectably down your throat— to wear rust. Or, perhaps, how to survive: piecemealed atop an old horse— eating dog food with a knife— shotgun loaded with rock salt. My unborn daughter—golden and cream—like your mother— perfect in your simplicity of being—I hope you don’t collect my brokenness: I have killed all of our plants— two cacti, one orchid—your mother and I must look like ratty serfs—ripping up celery root, our ancestral carpals and phalanges digging in the garden dirt. At what point does it become genocide? Where is the government of unborn children? And do they enjoy calaveras? Like a tasty sugar skull, and just as deadly, I’ll dream you into being. I’ll soak you in my mind.

JOSHUA MORGAN FOLMAR is a Texas-based artist and educator. An Alabama native, Joshua received his MFA in Writing from the University of New Hampshire where he was awarded the Young P. Dawkins III Endowed Prize in Creative Writing for his poetry thesis Here We Rest. His work appears in such anthologies as Mark My Words and Liver of Dixie: Stories from Egan’s, as well as the publications Permafrost, DewPoint, and Marr’s Field Journal, among others. Joshua works as a writing specialist at Southern Methodist University, serves as an assistant poetry editor of the Saranac Review, and is the founder and program director of Writing Over War: a DFW-based workshop of The Writer’s Garret for veterans and others that have been affected by war. He resides in Dallas with his wife and two rescue cats.