i am a melted paradise, disfigured so that only man could glisten
With more and more poets reflecting on the past events of this week, I have been searching, not for a distraction from the world, but an intimate space to curse and scream and shout. Ashley Miranda’s new poem is ruin and raw with a chorus of fury. The profanities and obscene words do not shock but enhance the repetition of “gendercide” and its metaphors—ranging from “an infection that spurns” to “detachment”.
What’s especially notable is the use of “molten”, “melting”, and “melted” throughout the poem, with each word serving as a guide to the next poetic shift. Miranda gives you such fire and destruction in every line break that you too will be “drinking molotov cocktails” after the poem ends.
The Rising Phoenix Review