When I think about poems, it’s always as how to translate this pre-verbal whatever into some vocabulary, then into further order—so a project that specifically took translation and collaborative making on as an approach was very appealing. Looking at “roses, too,” the sculptural/installation/photograph, I thought of an altar, a monument, a terrible rupture in the earth, the creeping vines or flowers look like lava, fire; it seemed very hellmouth. Yet, still, and windless. I asked my best friend what she thinks of when I say “cement.” She replies: that people often mean concrete when they say cement, cement is one ingredient in concrete. So I ask myself, what bindings are at play, how do you hold stuff together, what even is connection. Concrete can be cast into any shape too. Of course—gray. Stone, Medusa, gargoyles, the eruption of Vesuvius. Controlled explosions, extraction. You’ll notice the Sappho poem, translated by Anne Carson, in my poem. I love this idea of inviting other voices into the poem as a way of speaking corpse. I’ve been thinking a lot about necromantic practices. I read that in ancient Greece one of the powers a witch learned was to speak through the mouth of corpses, to send messages and I guess this is my current obsession. This is equally about listening.
—Leia Penina Wilson

Leia Penina Wilson is a Samoan poet. Her current favorite tv show is She-Ra and the Princesses of Power. Other favorites: Sailor Moon, weaving, reading YA, wrapping Xmas gifts, Halloween candy, ginger bread cookies. She teaches in the MFA program at Chatham University.