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Transparent Dinner, Cover
The Transparent Dinner
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Christine gives an overview of the book:

From Amazon: (by Aleah Sato) Christine Hamm's Transparent Dinner illustrates the psychological breaking down of the American daughter. Beginning at the dinner table, this daughter intuitively knows her fate, and is forced to come face-to-face with her incompetent (at best) and malevolent (at worst) mother. You feel the daughter's frustration, especially in My Mother's Basement and Door where the girl attempts to force her mother to acknowledge/protect/respond. The title is aptly named - the "dinner" becomes a physical reaction in the reader: a visceral queasiness with a world that is not safe or certain. The reader becomes an active participant in this "growing up," witnessing a wide variety of Selves eating Selves, where people are represented in a very organic way. Several of the poems beautifully reflect the animal side of the human animal....
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From Amazon:

(by Aleah Sato)

Christine Hamm's Transparent Dinner illustrates the psychological breaking down of the American daughter. Beginning at the dinner table, this daughter intuitively knows her fate, and is forced to come face-to-face with her incompetent (at best) and malevolent (at worst) mother. You feel the daughter's frustration, especially in My Mother's Basement and Door where the girl attempts to force her mother to acknowledge/protect/respond.

The title is aptly named - the "dinner" becomes a physical reaction in the reader: a visceral queasiness with a world that is not safe or certain. The reader becomes an active participant in this "growing up," witnessing a wide variety of Selves eating Selves, where people are represented in a very organic way. Several of the poems beautifully reflect the animal side of the human animal.

The Transparent Dinner is a complicated deconstruction and rebuilding of the feminine spirit. This book is powerful, perverse, and highly recommended.

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Animal Husbandry

The dog tells me that's he leaving me, that he no longer likes sticking his nose in my crotch. This last week he has been slipping his leash after I fall asleep and sucking cock in the backroom at Woody's. He tells me about the glory holes in the bathroom of the New York Public Library. I tell him he's lying, that dogs aren't allowed in the library. I'm having trouble breathing. I sit down on the edge of the bed. I shout, what, so women aren't good enough for you anymore! I remind him of our first date, how he tied me up and we cried all night. Never before had I been threatened with such tenderness, such sincerity. You can't fake that! I scream. I am sobbing. I am not a woman if my dog doesn't want me. I'm a question mark in a skirt.

The dog has his sad puppy-dog eyes on. I've seen him practice this look in the mirror. He asks me not to hate him. He rolls his eyes and whines.

I know that he's already picturing himself out on a walk, leaving me here alone in a room full of condoms and chew toys, some man's hand on his leash. I wonder if it's my scent that he finds so vile. He rests his chin on his crossed paws. It's not that you're fat, he tells me. There's a gland near the base of the skull that regulates it-- this desire, this thing, for bones.

 

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Territory

Summer around our backyard pool,
I sat half in her shadow, the chlorine drying in my shivers,
and held her feet while she lay dark-glassed and silent
in the striped beach chair.

Her ruby toenails were the throats of hummingbirds
her freckles -- constellations foretelling my future
but the ragged patch
on her right foot, where the tan

seemed erased, drew my little girl kisses
because that part, that most naked pale skin,
was on my own foot in the same frog-shape

and it was by that mark I knew
she was my mother.

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Note from the author coming soon...

About Christine

Christine Hamm is a PhD candidate in English Literature at Drew University. She won the MiPoesias First Annual Chapbook Competition with her manuscript, Children Having Trouble with Meat. Her poetry has been published in The Adirondack Review, Pebble Lake Review, Lodestar...

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