"Frame" by Julia Forrest
The Princess Bride by Jeremy Radin
Wesley plunges his sword through the backbone
of the Rodent of Unusual Size & I yell at my mom
to turn it off. My pet rat is named Splinter. She knows
how to unlock her cage & open bags of mini-licorice.
She shivers in my hands—her heart, a hummingbird
the size of a cashew suspended in Splinter’s center
by Splinter’s bones, bones even more like my bones
than my bones. I spend days locked in the bathroom
feeling for scars I know are there, left by my parents
after they found me in the woods, shaved my fur, filed
down my claws & fangs. Some skeletal swap had taken
place; the two of them bent over me, sweating, forcing
new bones into the bag of my body. My mother with
a bandana around her head, my father in work gloves,
undoing, reshaping. I imagine them digging, depositing
the truth of me beneath the soil. I tell them I’m looking
for dinosaurs when I go out with the spoons, counterfeit
flesh stretched taut around alien framework, untrue as my
name, a noise they try to cram me inside of like a second
skin—I know my name—Splinter whispered it in my ear.
But when I get home from camp her cage is in the yard
& the flies & the flies & I drop to my knees & my father
tells me whatever he tells me but I know, Splinter, & I
speak my true name all night long. & then this movie
& this murder & of course they marry & live in a hut
& of course forget the name of the monster punished
for being nothing but hungry & I speak my name &
speak my name & the lady of the red hair & holiday
nails locks her supple arms around me & coos her
noises into my ear & none of them make any sense.
of the Rodent of Unusual Size & I yell at my mom
to turn it off. My pet rat is named Splinter. She knows
how to unlock her cage & open bags of mini-licorice.
She shivers in my hands—her heart, a hummingbird
the size of a cashew suspended in Splinter’s center
by Splinter’s bones, bones even more like my bones
than my bones. I spend days locked in the bathroom
feeling for scars I know are there, left by my parents
after they found me in the woods, shaved my fur, filed
down my claws & fangs. Some skeletal swap had taken
place; the two of them bent over me, sweating, forcing
new bones into the bag of my body. My mother with
a bandana around her head, my father in work gloves,
undoing, reshaping. I imagine them digging, depositing
the truth of me beneath the soil. I tell them I’m looking
for dinosaurs when I go out with the spoons, counterfeit
flesh stretched taut around alien framework, untrue as my
name, a noise they try to cram me inside of like a second
skin—I know my name—Splinter whispered it in my ear.
But when I get home from camp her cage is in the yard
& the flies & the flies & I drop to my knees & my father
tells me whatever he tells me but I know, Splinter, & I
speak my true name all night long. & then this movie
& this murder & of course they marry & live in a hut
& of course forget the name of the monster punished
for being nothing but hungry & I speak my name &
speak my name & the lady of the red hair & holiday
nails locks her supple arms around me & coos her
noises into my ear & none of them make any sense.
Jeremy Radin is a poet, actor, and teacher. His poems have appeared (or are forthcoming) in Gulf Coast, The Cortland Review, The Journal, Vinyl, Passages North, wildness, and elsewhere. He is the author of two collections of poetry, Slow Dance with Sasquatch (Write Bloody Publishing, 2012) and Dear Sal (not a cult press, 2017). He lives in Los Angeles where he once sat next to Carly Rae Jepsen in a restaurant. Follow him @germyradin
Julia Forrest is a Brooklyn based artist. She works strictly in film and prints in a darkroom she built within her apartment. Her own art has always been her top priority in life and in this digital world, she will continue to work with old processing. Anything can simply be done in photoshop, she prefers to take the camera, a tool of showing reality, and experiment with what she can do in front of the lens. Julia is currently working as a teaching artist at the Brooklyn Museum, Medgar Evers College, USDAN Art Center and Lehigh University. As an instructor, she thinks it is important to understand that a person can constantly stretch and push the boundaries of their ideas with whatever medium of art they choose. Her goal is for her audience to not only enjoy learning about photography, but to see the world in an entirely new way and continue to develop a future interest in the arts. You can find her at her WEBSITE and on instagram: @Juliajuliaajuliaa
