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Poet. Editor. Scholar. Professor.


Mother Body


"She carries somebody’s child
in the crater their deaths create
inside her—if she could just reach deep
enough, if she could piecemeal her own
plump, how many layers would it take
to make a bulletproof lung?" 

"Blood Ode"


"Carving space for conversations that can't take place in real time, Forde's poems are plucked from the mouths of loved ones, lending poetry, itself, to dialogic purpose. The voices of doctors, mothers, fathers, grandparents, boyfriends--all intrude in the poems, all enter in italics, dressed up like unforgettable adages singed on the brain. The use of italics sets them apart but also sacralizes them, sets them apart and outside the world of arguments, like litanies repeated on a rosary of things one can't forget." 

Alina Stefanescu

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