by Jeanie Tomasko
In these poems, meet Violet, a disquieting little girl who investigates her surroundings with a clinical eye for the morbid and bizarre.
|I’ve loved Violet for years, since reading her first poems. She makes jewelry from dead bugs. Puts chicken hearts in classmates’ valentines. In a perfect world, her universe is drawn by Edward Gorey. She’s like the little girl from The Addams Family—only cooler. Her soundtrack is the stillness after drowning. When Violet’s happiest, her eyes turn black.
Winner of North American Review’s
2015 Hearst Award
2016, 40 pp.
Limited edition of 100 handsewn chapbooks with French covers.
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Bring Something Red
Violet liked small things, miniature beasts, figurines, delicate flies with fine wing patterns. She kept the secret names in a locked notebook and each set of tiny beasts in screw-top glass jars. Wednesday, the night of her friend’s bimonthly medieval party, she was running late. After tying a sheer red scarf around her face like a genie, she grabbed a jar of wood fairies. Solenopsis, she had named them, after the setting sun. They appeared to be alive for the most part. It was only after she let them out that she recalled labeling the underside of the cover mandibularus.