2023 Surrealist Prize Finalists
Winner
Nokomis Groves by Meg Kelleher
Who would I be if fear were not
my twin? Still me, still dreaming
of wasted oranges? Sore & sour
as sweet long untouched,
but for the branch and its pinched
calculations—each limb here cups
an untapped sun. Daughter
of red tides, of coasts painted
in pain, I was hatched
to be cross-hatched, a stitch
drawn in my skin. & from it
the line is juddering
to the peach-cheeked squatter
who shows me life
is but a license for haunting.
She mutters, You’re the child
you lost. A mystery, a hide
to tear into with my teeth. I trap
what’s left in the heat
of my palm: a dimpled skin
in my fish-shape that turns
over & will not heed my calls.
So all my silver will spill on sand,
unclaimed. Who would take me
when the light gives itself away?
Finalists
David Keplinger
Yessica Martinez
Annika T.
L.S. Klatt
Our Judge, Chris Howell, writes of the poem, “What I like particularly is that the poem is not only surreal, it is an actual poem. Not all of the finalists managed that; it was often one or the other, and most often the pieces seemed of strain for oddity or surprise and disregarded the matter of unity and the kind of circumstantial grammar that makes for a whole experience. So many ended up feeling kind of cluttered with arresting juxtapositions that failed to accumulate. This poem had strong, direct movement and a kind of liquidity, while still providing the kind of surprise and flexibility for which surrealism is justifiably famous.”
