I think that I’ve probably mentioned, hopefully on in passing, one of the most embarrassing things about myself on this blog: I am afraid of fish. As in, seriously afraid. When people hear this, they tend to laugh. They say, Why be afraid of fish? They say, Fish live in the water. They can’t come and get you. I recognize and agree with this, but still, shamefully, persist in fearing fish. To those who say this fear is unfounded, I offer this evidence from a Florida town. Prepare to be seriously freaked out.
Emma Bolden is the author of How To Recognize A Lady, a chapbook of poems published as part of Edge by Edge, the third in Toadlily Press' Quartet Series, and The Mariner's Wife, a chapbook published by Finishing Line Press. Her third chapbook, The Sad Epistles, is forthcoming from Dancing Girl Press. She was the recipient of a Tennessee Williams Scholarship to the Sewanee Writers' Conference and was named a Finalist for a Ruth Lilly Fellowship by the Poetry Foundation/Poetry magazine. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in such journals as Prairie Schooner, the Indiana Review, Feminist Studies, The Journal, Redivider, The Greensboro Review, and Verse. Her manuscript was a semi-finalist for the Perugia Press Prize. She is a Visiting Assistant Professor of English at Georgetown College, where she also serves as the poetry editor of the Georgetown Review.
Questions? Comments? Rants? Raves? Contact me at emmabolden@gmail.com.
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Also Available:How to Recognize a Lady, One of Four Chapbooks in Edge by Edge, the Third Volume in Toadlily Press' Quartet Series!
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July 18, 2008 at 6:18 am
wlr
No! NO! I am now an ichthyophobic, at least when it comes to the walking variety. I can only imagine how many drugs it must have taken to get you over the shock of having stumbled upon such eery Darwinian magic as that.
July 18, 2008 at 4:50 pm
emmabolden
Well, I did have to take two Advil, but I think that had to do a lot more with my fiercely-clenched jaw as I read through account after account of early modern birthing practices. Um, seriously. EW.