1. McKeon 1
Nicole McKeon
CW 601
WIP Final Project
Villianess: Poetry Collection Introduction
Titles and editing are my least favorite part of writing poetry. For my work in progress I
decided to edit old poems and get them in “publishable” order. I wanted to curate a selection of
these edited poems centered around a theme that I could possibly expand on in order to turn it
into a book. The theme that emerged was women, in particular mentally ill and “bad” women. I
am always writing about women, but these poems are about women struggling with traumas real
or imagined. I wanted to talk about women and mental health without being too explicit. A
couple of these poems are inspired by movies I've seen with troubled but inspiring women:
Thana in Ms. 45, the unnamed woman in Antichrist, and Thomasin in The Witch. These are the
women I want to talk about. The evil ones. The ones who don't make it to the end, or do but are
completely changed. As a woman who has dealt with mental illness throughout my life, I am
always fascinated by “evil women” and what evil really means. I am also fascinated with how
women struggling with mental or physical illnesses deal with love and being loved, something I
am trying to figure out for myself every day.
I didn't know the title for this collection until I started writing this introduction.
“Villianess” seemed perfect and summed up exactly the type of woman I was trying to depict.
This manuscript still needs work but I am very proud of myself for having edited so many old
poems and now having more poems I actually like. I am glad I was able to produce a tangible
product from my last semester and I hope to expand on it and hopefully have it published one
2. McKeon 2
day soon.
Another thing I discussed in my initial work in progress statement was that I wanted to
get into a more fluid writing routine. I am leaving the Bay Area in less than a month. I will be
leaving the structured writing environment of being a creative writing major. I want to be able to
keep up on my writing even if my grad school focus is in a different direction. The outside
reading reports and my own desire to get as much out of the Bay Area before I leave made me go
to a lot of readings on my own. I have already been looking into the writing workshop and poetry
reading opportunities in Los Angeles and am pleased with what I have found so far. I was not
able to get into too much of a writing routine this semester unfortunately, but I did go to a bar
near my work every week right when I got off to write for an hour or so before dinner. I found
isolating myself to be very helpful for my concentration. This has been a busy semester so
whenever I am home I just want to sit on my couch and relax. Getting out of the house to do
writing and especially editing, the bane of my existence, has been very helpful and I hope to be
able to continue that tradition when I move.
This semester has been all about making something tangible before my life shifts majorly.
While I am going to graduate school for Library Science, writing is still my main focus in life. I
wanted to come out of this class and this school with the confidence and skills to be able to write,
edit, and get published on my own. I'm not sure if I am there yet but I am definitely on my way. I
feel confident that I can find some sort of habit for continuing my writing while in grad school.
My next goal is to publish a small chapbook or possibly a longer full poetry manuscript. This
means more editing and curating and this collection has been a great start and practice for my
ultimate goal.
3. McKeon 3
Villianess
1.
Thana .45
after Abel Ferrara's Ms. 45
lips red
quiet
lightning
in my lungs
I speak with
fingers
forming shapes
stitching pants
for fathers
who will spill
onto fabric
it will never
happen again
I have never felt
so much flesh
I am filled
with sand, heavy
dissection in utero
you misheard
my silence as words
snake hair
whips your neck
flailing limbs
in the freezer
I save the
head for last
it will never
happen again
a girl walks home
alone at night
but I am a woman
in the alleys
I find them
4. McKeon 4
pant bulge
takes shape
I dreamt of this:
I am yelling
at you with
heavy weight
in my hand
your skull
is soft
on the pavement
it will never
happen again
bullet hole
whole body
I can't look
at my skin,
residue
wavers here,
the knife
still had cake
on it
it will never
happen again
5. McKeon 5
2.
Heat Stroke
Your heart is a coconut
tropic heat thunders
through your body
leaving lightning scars
on my skin where you kiss me
your heart shreds to pieces
like a paper maché lover
I can suck your heart dry
utensil needed: a bright red
straw to distract from the pulpy water
a hint of sodium mixes
with your iron love
I drain you until you are
an empty rock bed
bleached bones lying out
on the side of the highway
you never did like vacation
6. McKeon 6
3.
also a ghost
my hands crack and bleed
all over your carpet
and you silently get the
vacuum out of the closet
as if you could erase me
just like that
my blood is not thick and hard
like last week's bread:
it will seep into the
soul of your house
i will be your silent phantom
making the toast pop up
too late, constantly changing the
channel to spanish soap operas
te amo
i will never whisper
my bloody desert palms press
against your windowpane and
leave no mark
you see, i'm outside now
and it isn't snowing yet
won't you please let me back in
i promise not to rearrange the furniture
i'll sit in your least favorite chair
and blend into the walls
there are crumpled poppies in my
pocket
i picked them for you
they only need a little water
7. McKeon 7
to resurrect
in a crash and burn
but all your dishes are broken
and i saw the pile of letters stacked
next to the bulging mail box
when was the last time you left home?
8. McKeon 8
4.
Chains
milk maid braids
slapping each other
in the wind
a rough salty wind
that breaks your bread
you fill your pail
before the sun rolls over
but your knees
are always knocking
on the doors of strange homes
that house crying children
and broken bottle dreams
doors that haven't been opened in years
your knees knock knock knock
until they are filled with red rust
and are heavy like jelly doughnuts
your pail is too heavy to lift now
so you drag it
with your seaweed stiff body
you are now a screaming face
9. McKeon 9
blue
bloated
drowning
the chalk taste leaks
into your open mouth
as you roll out your wrinkles
onto the coffee table
and harvest your own milk
the curlers in your hair are mine now
and your hair curls alone in the empty pail.
5.
Alert
one.
The sweet, sticky pearls cling to your chest
like hungry mouths
beads of champagne
they taste like home
I want to burrow my hungry mouth
find your pearl drops and chew
two.
we're drinking on your doorstep
and it feels like you've stepped on me
10. McKeon 10
you're sipping & I'm sinking
your eyes are drills on my skin
there are beads of red on your lips
and I want to lick you
three.
I stayed on the beach
after you left that day
the sand grew cold and the water
bit my ankles
some kids were poking holes
and I wanted to tell them to stop
four.
your curves make me
want to break
windows
I want to soak your pores
underneath the moon
pour honey in your strands of wheat
you are sticky w/ starlight
and your mouth forms words
on my belly
11. McKeon 11
6.
For Now
My mind looks like last week's
leftover meat
and still you say
it's beautiful
I don't understand why
you still want to touch me
when my skin's on fire
and my body's shaking
like an off the scale
earthquake
I want to crawl out of my skin
and sit in the corner
naked and shivering
but you drape my skin around me
like my body's a car crash
12. McKeon 12
I somehow survived
I don't know how to walk
without feeling like the ground's
crumbling away
beneath me
the earth wants to swallow me up
and sometimes that fiery core
seems like home
but when you hold my hand
without even touching me
I remember what the ground feels like
your voice reminds me
how to be human
and yet sometimes you scare me
more than myself
sometimes I miss tripping
on fiery cracks
and not having someone
to catch me
sometimes I miss falling
face first into lava
and I'm not sure when I stopped
feeling weak for loving you
when spitting out your blood
into my hand wasn't losing
anymore
but I somehow feel larger
split in two
and you seem to want
my beat-up heart
next to yours
so i'll keep jumping
over cracks
for now
13. McKeon 13
7.
Narratives
This metal box
rattles beyond pot holes
the moon builds condos
in my eye sockets
I remember
whispered fever dreams
of face and finger
as I feel my skin separate
from muscle
bone
I don't know which
is left behind
My cranium is wide open
as my parts are shifted
around
I can feel my sponge
14. McKeon 14
weight
in someone else's hands
as they ask me
how many eggs
I have left,
there is red
around my thighs
I forget what cars sound like
engines purr in my stomach
lining ripped apart
as claws sink in
I am bloated
misted teeth
I don't remember
where I left my body
highway
underpass undermelt
there is a fire somewhere
between my chest and feet
five without blood
I still see saucer eyes
in liquids
and my belly grows
bigger inside me
15. McKeon 15
8.
Old Mister Crab
My neck is red and raw
from my probing fingers
blood and air mix to form penny bubbles
the skin I wear as a scarf
itched so much
that I scraped it right off
there was an old crab hiding in my throat
I had swallowed it when I dove into the ocean
I dove so deep that I began to inhale the salty water
and all the creatures climbed into the cave of my mouth
my tongue was their red carpet
soft and wet
they marched right in and sat down among my lungs
and nestled under my heart
16. McKeon 16
and yet when the sun began to burn my neck again
angry and persistent
they were forced out by the frantic pumping hands
but old mister crab stayed
hidden with his pinched claws
stumbling sideways along the walls of my body
and now the itch is gone
and my throat lies open
like a robbed grave
the crab – broken at my feet
as my neck cries red tears
for its lost tenant
9.
Two Haikus
(1)
the women take turns
lifting stones above their heads
dirty fox, men hiss
(2)
fox-faced, we cry tears
dry heave our lust at your feet
and pick up our skirts
17. McKeon 17
10.
Mrs. Hook
In Memory of Uncle Dick
I cut off my hand
and gave it to you
but you didn't need
a hand
you needed a heart
and I don't have one
to give
So now I'm Mrs. Hook
married to a pirate
with mother issues
The crew is afraid of me
because I drank
all the rum
James and I clink
our diamond
studded hooks
like the wine glasses
18. McKeon 18
we broke last night.
I threw them one by one
at the walls
of our wooden asylum
he laughed
his long black wig
mopping up the wine
that was abstract painted
on his blouse
You didn't have enough
blood
so every night
I steal vials
of his
a sick iron collection
that weighs down my boots
When I walk the plank
I'll pencil dive
straight into the ticking
green jaws
11.
The Devil Holds Fast Our Eyelids
after Robert Egger's The Vvitch
the Devil holds fast our eyelids
as our souls dance naked in the night
our bodies left behind
with the king of land
we are sky dwellers
crowns growing out
our pretty heads
we sing to thee
our sisters
leave the familiar taste
of salty brows
thee are too old for this
come take our worn red hands
and spin wildly in the moon’s
shadow
19. McKeon 19
we step where we want
in the sea & sky
we take no heed from man
we are Witches
we are Women
we are waiting
12.
Three Beggars
after Lars Von Trier's Antichrist
i.
The mirror is s h a k i n g
I steady it with my hand
look everywhere but my eyes
chin – waxy
hair – straw man
neck – neck – neck –
I turn the light off
when I leave
ii.
The water is too hot
I feel my skin
peeling in strips
bits of freckles
in the tub
20. McKeon 20
I scrape my nails against
the cracks
in the walls
There are voices
in the shower head
the water is pink
iii.
There are other rooms
inside the walls
the empty one
with the chandelier
has ghosts
deep in your chest dirt lungs
When I asked the wall
to send me away
it shattered
The chandelier
wobbled (gold)
iv.
i am face down
on the tile
it smells
like bleached feet
the door is locked
my heartbeat is
resting on my tongue
i could cough up
organs and flush
them
i am taped
together
v.
three walls begging my
