Pentheus in the Mirror

The following poem is a brief selection from our Fall/ Winter 2019 print issue, accompanied by an audio recording of the poet reading their work.

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Pentheus in the Mirror

The boys made a list
of prettiest girls & featured
my name at the bottom. As a joke, while boyish;
plump with guilt in glass & bad solutions to save

my shape. I tried duct tape; wearing a small
to redistribute weight. As a joke, I layered
six uniform shirts
& praised the pounds

of cloth suffocating me into easier breath.
My heft summed up by the quick stroke
of ink, thin as a pinky probing the throat.
The list grew as I did; stretched into dangerous

fabrics. Flashy in drag for practice—one night—
until the habit clings until it isn’t a habit.
I crossed my name out with a widow’s flair
for theatrics—the list of boys fuzzing with mold

in my mind’s compact mirror. Should I pretend
the desire was new? The list of girls I still
want to be is mental.
I’ll never write the names

down. I pin men to
my wall & stare so hard
through them, my eyes spin, until I’m dancing
flawless in the right gown. Erasing the chalk

outline into a glutted moon’s worth of light.
Boy is an orbit I throw myself out of, into
the endless question—how can I believe
the desire will ever be answered? If costume

is flesh, I starve off season & come back
famous for my wasting. Technician: Magician:
Tyrant editing herself with violence—alternative
to death I choose catharsis—the weight of

every jaw slacking as I enter the room. 

A note from the poet:
"I wrote “Pentheus in the Mirror" while I was reading several different translations of Euripides’ Bacchae and reflecting on my adolescent experiences with gender deviance, specifically as a fat person. The notion of “costume as flesh” stems from Anne Carson’s Bakkhai, and the questions of (in modern terms) gender performance + presentation she elucidates, which Euripides’ tragedy involves in much subtler ways.”