Bringing the gift of plant life to my guest room this month is poet and author M.G. Hughes. Her poetry is both rooted and ethereal. It carries heritage and a sense of the uncanny. It is no surprise to me that she has just released a beautiful first collection with Thought Catalog.
if i were
to crack the
last day of the month
to crack it like
the last egg in the refrigerator
the gold and white would mix
the shells would be added to
a raised bed and used for fertilizer
and if i were
to let those seeds sit
to let them green and groove like
they’re chameleon and know no blues
i can bet you a poem as wide as
tomorrow will unfurl by the last day of fall
(hair appreciation poem)
the mimosa honey
i put in my hair will
grow blue flowers there
and then those flowers
come autumn will fall like
the rain of your pepper clouds
when i detangle
i pull from my comb
those pretty and curled sky blue petals
when i make that part in the middle
i think of those old black rubber bands and
summers so hot the concrete could just laugh (cry)
Three questions to M.G.
What does reading/writing poetry do for you?
Poetry is a lot like therapy to me. Once I’m done reading it I often find myself leaving with another lens into myself, my state of being, and the world around me. And when I’m writing poetry I’m naturally forced to think again of what I think I know.
What should we know about you that will help us understand your work?
I’m a Fantasy and Science Fiction writer at heart. In terms of fiction, I love using the genre as a way to explore, challenge, and exaggerate (artistically) what’s real.
When it comes to poetry I often find it unavoidable to incorporate big or little notes of Magical Realism and Fantasy. When I try to write more “straightforward” poems I tend to feel less in love with them.
So if a flower is truthfully red, for example, I can’t help but want to make it feel like glass or black in color. Reading other works that incorporate similar imagery techniques really excite me; and I think, in the end, the strangeness can also inspire the reader to remember that line.
Because the sound of picking black or even glass flowers carries a heavier symbolism; and since it’s not naturally occuring, or possible, the mind longs to know more about them–even if they’re not the main focus.
What brought you joy this week?
Presence. I’ve been teaching myself to take note of one or two positive things in my life at least every other day. When I started practicing this I realized that things like joy and happiness (for me) can be as simple as watching the rain, or being in good health, drinking tea or coffee in the morning.
Her book “I only have marmalade” is available from Thought Catalog
