For a Ghost

BRIANA GRACE HAMMERSTROM

How on earth do you award aesthetic points to a 75-minute suicide note?

—on Sarah Kane’s 4.48 Psychosis, Michael Billington, The Guardian

My hand 
slips. 

Crafts both 
masterpiece 
and
noose. 

How ridiculous; 
two things existing
independently 
of each other,          all while
sharing a mother. 
How startling: both
still name me Artist. 

God forbid the last thing I birth be
beautiful. 
God forbid my last words 
swaddled in the honesty I 
taught them— 
y’know, they say 
the best writing advice 
is 
to kill your darlings. 

So I did. 

don’t           tell me 
I didn’t love this body 
as much as I detested 
being unable 
to love it 
better. 

A man 
will one day call 
my art a suicide note 
because it because I
had the audacity 
to be honest about pain
and was too 
exhausted to put 
up with it. 

Stitched me
Medea 
with no nouns 
for his own
transgressions. 
My suffering           labeled as 
pornographic 
when all it ever 
wanted 
was to exist plainly—! 

Sorry, I forgot my lines. 

It is my fault  
this raw, 
so gorgeous, it’s 
circumstance drowns 
out any skill I 
poured into it. 

Go ahead. 
Name my pain
in every way 
I did 
my best to void,  
your tongue 
forming around the circumference 
of tragedy 
and thinking it  
is the only measurement needed!
Neglecting 
the fact 
every tragedy 
is 
an 
infinity.  

Her last words on the page: 
“Please open the curtain.” 
Do not ignore this advice. 
Note 
how this poem still reaches 
you,
beyond my grave: A literary resurrection, 
the kindest form 
of necromancy. 
Call 
all my magic witchcraft 
and see none of it until
you 
open this curtain. 
Open any book 
which earths me. Then, craft 
a shovel with your palms.
Open your 
ears while my voice
echoes 
throughout time.
Open my body          of work, then 
find a planchette.
The act of 
reading is a seance, this is 
why we call it spelling—

Call me forth  
into this future 
beside you. I am alive again
every time we share words. 
It is all the award I need.  

---

BRIANA GRACE HAMMERSTROM has participated in the National Poetry Slam, Individual World Poetry Slam, the Southwest Shootout, Flagstaff Poetry Slam, Bigfoot Poetry Festival, and earned titles such as Haiku Deathmatch Champion. She has been published in Red Ogre Review, Palette Poetry, Clepsydra Magazine, and other publications. Her work is a journey through queer joy, sheer outrage, and the enchantment of everyday language. Discover her world of words and upcoming performances at bghpoetry.wordpress.com.