Iron, by Elizabeth Acevedo

Today's poem is also from this month's issue of Poetry Magazine - Iron, by Elizabeth Acevedo.

Like yesterday, today is a poem which you must listen to instead of read, especially as Acevedo is a National Poetry Slam Champion. So, I'm not going to cut and paste the poem but instead leave you with these dramatic lines the poem starts with...

And although I am a poet, I am not the bullet;

I will not heat-search the soft points.

I am not the coroner who will graze her hand

over naked knees. Who will swish her fingers

in the mouth. Who will flip the body over, her eye a hook

fishing for government-issued lead.

...and ask you to go listen to the poet read the poem and also hear the editors discuss the poem in this audio podcast from the magazine.

P.S. Since she is a performance poet, I thought I'd add a poem she performed below.




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About the poet: Elizabeth Acevedo is the daughter of Dominican immigrants. She is a National Poetry Slam Champion. The Poet X (HarperCollins, 2018) is her debut novel.

She was born and raised in New York City and her poetry is infused with her Dominican parents’ bolero and her beloved city’s tough grit. She holds a BA in Performing Arts from The George Washington University and a MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Maryland. She is a National Poetry Slam Champion as well as a Cave Canem Fellow, CantoMundo Fellow, and participant of the Callaloo Writer’s Workshop. Acevedo was a 2010 Teach for America Corps member, and a former writing instructor at the University of Maryland as well as the head coach and Assistant Youth Programs Coordinator for The DC Youth Slam Team.   For more see:  or follow her on twitter at @acevedowrites.