Kit Kavanagh-Ryan

Words and Spills: Disability, Sexuality and Cripping Your Poetry

What am I doing?

Writing while crip is complicated.

Not the act itself, not always. My hands work most of the time, and I have access to screen readers and dictation software. But writing crip is messy and awkward and bodied and mine, because no ‘experience of disability is universal’ (Kafer 2013, 34), no matter how much anyone wants it to be.

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Kitchen Prep

I have done this before hours pull and twist while splitting seconds bleed.  (eat your damn food. you’ll be hungry later) garlic sticks to skin hours pull and twist while bleeding seconds split as water follows my spine, bent down. “This …

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Ink blooms in skin intent sketched down in blue. my blood presses up against the nib.  fingers (his) brace  breast and knee and thigh (mine). He checks left and right on his hands. “I don’t want to get it wrong!” …

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F-sharp in my mouth bright and shaped to laughter as I stretch lazysweet and safer in my skin now I know you (you know, you— —touch, if you want.  I am vain when I know you look at me.) I tell …

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Left Song

She smiled glass through sunshine, which steals and swallows until Pain like | hot wires coil I stretch, unspooling, fingers long empty space. Hollow as your throat laughter licks up into small spaces words have left song echoes or unprotected …

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