Lauren Hunter

from The Talents

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on tuesday i wake up early and draw the four of coins. i'm uncertain and unconvinced—i couldn't be enough. grasp at someone else's thoughts or art to express my deepest; want to show up but not as myself, you know. having a handful, taking a few. i'm not alone, i'm not lonely but still i fear it.

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on monday i pull the wheel of fortune and well, sit down. even reversed i feel so capable: surely a mighty current will pull me all the days of my life and my path will be marked with assured neon arrows. what gives is will, will over let. stepping with a blindfold over any abyss or pit. the prize being mario’s longest legs and a code to skillfully land any leap.

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on thursday i pull the sun and wake up to a new day. on most thursdays i quit but here’s a chance to change the scene. i’ll start in the mirror as usual but also let you in on the deep secret of my truest nature: i’m not as steady as i seem. with abundant joy i will collapse helplessly as i approach the doors, my feet refusing as strongly as my heart can’t hold. but take my hands, if they are shaking. listen clearly, because i can’t repeat this escape but it’s important that you know: i’ve seen you too. we can go whenever you like.

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on wednesday i draw the moon and look for both sides of the story. the person i've become is terrified of the next steps, of drawing the curtain back to see my old self still sweating alongside her. while i appreciate the potential for an honest position, i'd prefer some generosity. some turning of my own other cheek against the answers i sincerely don't want to know. i prefer thick clouds between my two faces, thanks very much.

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on monday i draw death and am stopped in my tracks. what gives a welcome pause in the drudge of the week: the thrill of transformation or the fear of, well, walking through the door marked “doomed.” the whisper down my neck is not what you expect (the ice-cold scythe tightening my edges), but instead the devil insisting this is the way and trust me, you’ll like the next bite. and i am so terribly hungry.

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Lauren Hunter

from The Talents

&&

on tuesday i wake up early and draw the four of coins. i'm uncertain and unconvinced—i couldn't be enough. grasp at someone else's thoughts or art to express my deepest; want to show up but not as myself, you know. having a handful, taking a few. i'm not alone, i'm not lonely but still i fear it.

​

​

&&

​

on monday i pull the wheel of fortune and well, sit down. even reversed i feel so capable: surely a mighty current will pull me all the days of my life and my path will be marked with assured neon arrows. what gives is will, will over let. stepping with a blindfold over any abyss or pit. the prize being mario’s longest legs and a code to skillfully land any leap.

​

​

​

&&

on thursday i pull the sun and wake up to a new day. on most thursdays i quit but here’s a chance to change the scene. i’ll start in the mirror as usual but also let you in on the deep secret of my truest nature: i’m not as steady as i seem. with abundant joy i will collapse helplessly as i approach the doors, my feet refusing as strongly as my heart can’t hold. but take my hands, if they are shaking. listen clearly, because i can’t repeat this escape but it’s important that you know: i’ve seen you too. we can go whenever you like.

​

​

​

&&

on wednesday i draw the moon and look for both sides of the story. the person i've become is terrified of the next steps, of drawing the curtain back to see my old self still sweating alongside her. while i appreciate the potential for an honest position, i'd prefer some generosity. some turning of my own other cheek against the answers i sincerely don't want to know. i prefer thick clouds between my two faces, thanks very much.

&&

on monday i draw death and am stopped in my tracks. what gives a welcome pause in the drudge of the week: the thrill of transformation or the fear of, well, walking through the door marked “doomed.” the whisper down my neck is not what you expect (the ice-cold scythe tightening my edges), but instead the devil insisting this is the way and trust me, you’ll like the next bite. and i am so terribly hungry.

​

​

Lauren Hunter

2-3 stunning books that I've read this year:

Do re-reads count? I recently revisited The Temple of My Familiar by Alice Walker which is a favorite, though it had been years since I last read it. As with each re-reading, I was drawn to the fantasy of the open heart, and the protections we’re so careful to put in place, all the definitions and limits. The story really suffers to show us the way to a possible next step in our freedoms, if we’d only consider ourselves “helped.”

As for first times, Lucy Negro Redux by Caroline Randall Williams was a glorious revelation. It’s so intimate and smart and brash. I love the format of this book, how we are taken on this research journey, peppered with confessional vignettes, blues, interludes… weaving an entire history. I felt so full and invigorated by the thrill of discovery and hypothesis, vindication linked with deep emotion that left me trembling, some serious skin in the game.

What writer, artist, filmmaker, musician, &c. do you really value, but who does not yet seem to be particularly well known among other writers?

Hawksley Workman, a Canadian singer-songwriter that I followed closely in the early aughts, is an artist that has been particularly important to my writing (but generally not recognized in passing conversation). He wrote a book of poem-letters which I always keep close, along with a generous handful of my all-time favorite songs, including “You, Me & the Weather,” “Maniacs,” and “Paper Shoes.”

You’ve been given an elephant. You can’t give it away or sell it. What would you do with the elephant?

Dance.

You’re on death row, what would your last meal be?

I hear you can order as many things as you want (is that true?) so I’d probably be as gluttonous as possible to get one more deadly sin in before I go. Otherwise: my mom’s baked chicken smothered with cream of mushroom gravy with onions, jasmine rice with salted butter (and a generous scoop of gravy on that, too) and crunchy sautéed green beans with red onion and garlic. Then I guess a very cold can of Diet Coke and a bottle of champagne would round things out nicely.