Gretchen Rockwell
Self-Portrait as Pacific Rim
adaptability ↀ has always been an asset ↀ
building ourselves ↀ new bodies ↀ new strength
ↀcherno coyote crimson corinthian chrome danger
ↀ the names we give ourselves ↀ matter
ↀexoskeletons ↀ are strong as ↀ we make them
ↀfighting unwinnable wars ↀ every apocalypse more
grim than the last ↀ we think of ourselves ↀ as beyond
human ↀ we already see a body ↀ as something bigger ↀ
its bounds expanded ↀ its edges ours ↀ even if it's not a
Jaeger ↀ we don't see other people driving ↀ we see cars
ↀKaiju aren't the only monsters ↀ rising ↀ all of the pacific
language ↀ in the world won't stop them ↀ for that ↀ you
make weapons ↀ out of bodies ↀ the corps
ↀnewly created ↀ to fight back ↀ you learn ↀ how to un- obstruct your mind ↀ let yourself be some ↀ oyster shell pried open ↀ remade ↀ all pearls ↀ feel sea ↀ earth
quake ↀ when you make landfall ↀ a force of natureↀ resplendent ↀ something you can fight a hurricane in ↀ now strike ↀ & eureka ↀ you've won the battle ↀ restart the ticking clock ↀ this is a war of categories ↀ we constantly undermine ourselves ↀ each rainy day we fear we’ll never be victorious ↀ fighting is exhausting ↀ everything is dark & watery ↀ tides slamming you back ↀ to shore ↀ sometimes xenowarfare means ↀ suiting up & becoming ↀ something
you never ↀ dreamed possible ↀ sometimes it means zero
zilch nada ↀ as there is no war ↀ no aliens here ↀ are there
adaptability ↀ has always been an asset ↀ
building ourselves ↀ new bodies ↀ new strength
ↀcherno coyote crimson corinthian chrome danger
ↀ the names we give ourselves ↀ matter
ↀexoskeletons ↀ are strong as ↀ we make them
ↀfighting unwinnable wars ↀ every apocalypse more
grim than the last ↀ we think of ourselves ↀ as beyond
human ↀ we already see a body ↀ as something bigger ↀ
its bounds expanded ↀ its edges ours ↀ even if it's not a
Jaeger ↀ we don't see other people driving ↀ we see cars
ↀKaiju aren't the only monsters ↀ rising ↀ all of the pacific
language ↀ in the world won't stop them ↀ for that ↀ you
make weapons ↀ out of bodies ↀ the corps
ↀnewly created ↀ to fight back ↀ you learn ↀ how to un- obstruct your mind ↀ let yourself be some ↀ oyster shell pried open ↀ remade ↀ all pearls ↀ feel sea ↀ earth
quake ↀ when you make landfall ↀ a force of natureↀ resplendent ↀ something you can fight a hurricane in ↀ now strike ↀ & eureka ↀ you've won the battle ↀ restart the ticking clock ↀ this is a war of categories ↀ we constantly undermine ourselves ↀ each rainy day we fear we’ll never be victorious ↀ fighting is exhausting ↀ everything is dark & watery ↀ tides slamming you back ↀ to shore ↀ sometimes xenowarfare means ↀ suiting up & becoming ↀ something
you never ↀ dreamed possible ↀ sometimes it means zero
zilch nada ↀ as there is no war ↀ no aliens here ↀ are there
Self-Portrait as Riddick
attempting to hide | who you are | is
beyond pointless | as your body | will always |
convict you | i swear this statement | is true |
do you like my eyes | their glow | got
em for a song | a pack of smokes | naturally |
forget | who you were & move | forward | got to
get off this planet | to a kinder one | & hope
help comes | but it doesn't | never does | & so
it's up to you | to make the plan | & execute |
joke's on them | you always had one | you always
knew how to get out | or at least | you knew you'd
learn how | given time | escape means | you
making a path | through the darkness | & the world's
nested threats | by any means necessary | getting
out | of whatever cuffs | or cage | or supermax
prison they put you in | it takes time | but you're no
quitter | sooner or later | you always get out | you're
renowned | for your escapes | in fact | but you can't
slip out of this one | so easy | like the rest | you are
trapped here | & have to find a way out | the rules are
upside down | & you're the expert | here | in survival |
viewing the terrain | & finding the road | reminds you |
we all hide | what we are | honestly | or go to some
extreme | to make it through | what the world throws down |
you keep | what you kill | you get me | for now | just
zap that next threat | & keep moving | through the black
attempting to hide | who you are | is
beyond pointless | as your body | will always |
convict you | i swear this statement | is true |
do you like my eyes | their glow | got
em for a song | a pack of smokes | naturally |
forget | who you were & move | forward | got to
get off this planet | to a kinder one | & hope
help comes | but it doesn't | never does | & so
it's up to you | to make the plan | & execute |
joke's on them | you always had one | you always
knew how to get out | or at least | you knew you'd
learn how | given time | escape means | you
making a path | through the darkness | & the world's
nested threats | by any means necessary | getting
out | of whatever cuffs | or cage | or supermax
prison they put you in | it takes time | but you're no
quitter | sooner or later | you always get out | you're
renowned | for your escapes | in fact | but you can't
slip out of this one | so easy | like the rest | you are
trapped here | & have to find a way out | the rules are
upside down | & you're the expert | here | in survival |
viewing the terrain | & finding the road | reminds you |
we all hide | what we are | honestly | or go to some
extreme | to make it through | what the world throws down |
you keep | what you kill | you get me | for now | just
zap that next threat | & keep moving | through the black
Gretchen Rockwell is a queer poet currently living in Pennsylvania. Xe is the author of the microchapbooks love songs for godzilla (Kissing Dynamite) and Thanatology (Ghost City Press); xer work has appeared in Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Poet Lore, FOLIO, Okay Donkey, Moonchild Magazine, and elsewhere. Gretchen enjoys writing poetry about gender and sexuality, history, myth, science, space, and unusual connections – find xer at www.gretchenrockwell.com or on Twitter at @daft_rockwell.