top of page
Search

After Thierry Mugler by Jo Urtasun

  • Editor
  • Mar 10, 2024
  • 1 min read


Thierry Mugler died last week and I hate myself.

All I can think about is his Grindr profile,

which a friend showed me on New Years.


I lose my umbrella and buy another. I repeat this

every week through January. My brother says

happiness doesn’t suit her


and walks into the mouth of the subway.

I’ve been making hollow silhouettes of myself

on the bed. I arrange the hangers and wonder


if happiness suits me. I buy

red cowboy boots. Anne Carson reads

in red cowboy boots. I write a postcard


but don’t have much to say about my life in America.

A decade truly starts a few years into itself.

Maybe the same goes for people.


__________

Jo Urtasun is a poet and translator who grew up between the Basque Country and the UK. She recently completed her MFA in Poetry and Literary Translation at Columbia University where she was a translation reader for the Columbia Journal. She is currently based in New York.

 
 
 

Recent Posts

See All
2 poems by Duncan Chambers 

Rules of the Hunt 1. The Boundaries of the Hunt shall not be limited by Time or Space 2. The Choice of the Quarry shall not be Random,...

 
 
 
2 poems by Phoebe Ambrosini Brown

in vocation / 22 She said writing was like sex in that the goal is to keep doing it. Margery Kempe, speaking her book said He lay before...

 
 
 

Comments


bottom of page