Two Poems by Wanda Deglane


you must know by now:

to love yourself is to be perpetually angry,

to dismantle everything & anything

you’ve ever seen & learned & been

in every past life,

feed those pieces to the manta rays watch

them float to heaven.

rebuild every limb & every

organ into hedera-drowned cities, into lakes pulsing sweet

with honeyed milk.

to love yourself is to bury old car fires

in a mouthful of dirt, hold grief close

like a lover, let her sing but never stay the night.

loving yourself is not a becoming,

but a physical swelling. you’ll say:

look at me, I’m colossal. I’m a universe.

I’m fucking exquisite.

& everyone you know will have to tip their heads back

to see your face, glowing & soaring &

sipping stratosphere, & they will tremble.

to love yourself is to kiss past mistakes with tongue.

to absorb silver-lined self-compassion

in every pore.

you may be eating your own tail, but you chew slowly.

you savor it.



after Haley Hendrick

girl with the elastic band heart, stretched to breaking but never mangled

girl with the bruised fruit skin, oozing honeyed juice at every bump

girl with the dust storm hair, the angry brown, whipping fury

girl with the blister-kissed, candle-lit fingertips

girl with the shallow water lungs, all choir song and cemetery

girl with the parrot nose, hummingbirds digging holes in her scalp

girl with the robin’s egg eyes, the you’re too pretty to cry eyes

girl with the dagger-ribs, the spaces like black holes in between

girl with the soft, kerosene-spilled bones

girl with the gas station light brain, humming and hiccuping endlessly

girl with cassiopeia traced in her freckles, in her scars

girl with shuddered inhale, with anxious, scratch-torn flesh

girl with the extinguished, scream-sore tongue

girl with every dinosaur breath, every whale kiss in her cells

girl with the nightly lamentations, the too-familiar taste of her own tears,

but with the legs the don’t stop moving, the resolve that trudges

on and on and on.


Wanda Deglane is a capricorn from Arizona. She is the daughter of Peruvian immigrants and attends Arizona State University. Her poetry has been published or forthcoming from Rust + Moth, Glass Poetry, L’Ephemere Review, and Former Cactus, among other lovely places. Wanda is the author of Rainlily (2018), Lady Saturn (Rhythm & Bones, 2019), Venus in Bloom (Porkbelly Press, 2019), and Sugar Weather (Vessel Press, 2020).

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