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A Guide to Undressing Your Monsters
A Guide to Undressing Your Monsters
A Guide to Undressing Your Monsters
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A Guide to Undressing Your Monsters

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"Forgive my bluntness, but...Goddamn, Sam Sax can write some poems. Devastating, comic, inventive, weird, dangerous, smart as hell. I could talk about the diction sometimes glass and sometimes bouquet. Or the syntax jagged here, balletic there. Or the metaphors, good lord. But the bottom line is that when reading the poems in A GUIDE TO UNDRESSING YOUR MONSTERS, one after the next, I kept saying to myself, probably twisting my face a little bit or squirming in my seat, "Goddamn, Sam Sax can write some poems." Ross Gay
LanguageEnglish
PublisherButton Poetry
Release dateMar 1, 2020
ISBN9781943735082
A Guide to Undressing Your Monsters
Author

Sam Sax

Sam Sax is a queer, jewish, writer and educator. They are the author of Madness, winner of The National Poetry Series and Bury It, winner of the James Laughlin Award from the Academy of American Poets. They’re the two-time Bay Area Grand Slam Champion with poems published in The New York Times, The Atlantic, Granta and elsewhere. Sam has received fellowships from The National Endowment for the Arts, The Poetry Foundation, Yaddo, and is currently serving as a Lecturer in the ITALIC program at Stanford University. Their first novel Yr Dead will be published by McSweeney’s in 2024.

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    Book preview

    A Guide to Undressing Your Monsters - Sam Sax

    BESTIARY

    medusa

    when i saw my face / reduced & reddened / in his eyes

    i turned / to stone / or a pillar of salt watching my village burn

    he was the village / burning / maybe that’s a different story

    maybe in the end / only the snakes wept

    mermaid

    half fish / half faggot / wishing for legs or the ocean / to open

    like a mouth & swallow / all the fallen soldiers & seamen

    i saved / a man / from his ship / fire in the water / brought him

    to land / when i got my legs / he split me open anyway

    said i was salt & slick / said my stink stank fresh

    werewolf

    there are many words for transformation / metamorphosis

    metaphor / medication / go to sleep / beside the man you love

    & wake up next to a dog / maybe the moon brought it out of him

    hound hungry for blood / maybe it’s your fault / or maybe

    it was there inside him / howling all along

    RIBS

    at the rib joint

    we became men.

    his whole body

    smoked for ten hours

    came apart

    in my hands.

    sucked the meat

    off him. sucked

    the bone. marrow

    becomes you,

    you know?

    you know, when you eat

    something, it becomes you?

    younger me grew broccoli crowns from our skull,

    grew hand antlers, ground ankle beef.

    at the table

    god unhinged his ribs

    at the joint. opened him

    like an oven laughing

    with smoke, steam

    flapping its black wings

    up from his organs.

    when i ate his ribs

    i became a man

    or maybe just ribs

    braided together

    at the table

    or maybe a creation myth,

    when i ate him.

    in the beginning there was a table

    i sat & ate at until i was something.

    my reflection swallowed in the plate,

    my god, the weight of the blade.

    the blade, singing.

    you know when you become

    something it eats you? the teeth

    in my hand. the weight of the

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