{"id":1987,"date":"2022-09-25T17:58:01","date_gmt":"2022-09-25T21:58:01","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/2026June\/?page_id=1987"},"modified":"2022-09-25T17:58:01","modified_gmt":"2022-09-25T21:58:01","slug":"dani-janae","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/thepetigrureview.com\/2627\/dani-janae\/","title":{"rendered":"Dani Janae"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
Beast \/\/ God\n\nWhen my mother beat me\ninstead of an apology, she would bring \nme lavender: soaps, creams, perfumes.\n\nI held my body taut like a wire for years,\nmy tongue pressed to the roof of my mouth\nand nailed there. I said thank you for the offering\n\nof my own blood, the color purple; my mother \nlaying flowers at my feet, washing my feet like\na savior. So much tied into her fist: the venom\n\nand the antidote, the little god. \nNo one beats me anymore, but I keep \ndried lavender in every room of my apartment. \n\nComfort is a beast. And shame. Lord, my shame.\nI never learned not to anticipate the flash of \na palm, the shock of white inside my eye.\n\nIf you are listening, I want to tell you everything.\nStrange as it is, everything: beating a child, \nbathing in an acquittal. I want to tell you it all\n\nand maybe it will bring me the balm of silence. \nMaybe it will guide me out of the flash in the dark.\nMaybe I will learn how to love anything else. \n\n<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
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Dani Janae <\/strong>is a poet and journalist from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. <\/em>Her work has been published by Argot Magazine, Pittsburgh Poetry Journal, Palette Poetry, Wax Nine Journal, Levee Magazine, <\/em>and Slush Pile Magazine. <\/em>Her manuscript, Motherless Fruit<\/em>, was selected as a finalist for the 2021 CAAPP Book Prize. She lives in South Carolina. <\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Beast \/\/ God When my mother beat me instead of an apology, she would bring me lavender: soaps, creams, perfumes. I held my body taut like a wire for years, my tongue pressed to the roof of my mouth and nailed there. I said thank you for the offering of my own blood, the color purple; my mother laying flowers at my feet, washing my feet like a savior. So much tied into her fist: the venom and the antidote, the little god. No one beats me anymore, but I keep dried lavender in every room of my apartment. Comfort is a beast. And shame. Lord, my shame. I never learned not to anticipate the flash of a palm, the shock of white inside my eye. If you are listening, I want to tell you everything. Strange as it is, everything: beating a child, bathing in an acquittal. I want to tell you it all and maybe it will bring me the balm of silence. Maybe it will guide me out of the flash in the dark. Maybe I will learn how to love anything else. Dani Janae is a poet and journalist from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Her work has been published by Argot Magazine, Pittsburgh Poetry Journal, Palette Poetry, Wax Nine Journal, Levee Magazine, and Slush Pile Magazine. Her manuscript, Motherless Fruit, was selected as a finalist for the 2021 CAAPP Book Prize. She lives in South Carolina. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1987","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"aioseo_notices":[],"aioseo_head":"\n\t\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t