Read a poem, talk about it, read it again.

Close Talking is a podcast hosted by good friends Connor Stratton and Jack Rossiter-Munley. In each episode the two read a poem and discuss at length. The pop culture references fly as freely as the literary theories. Close Talking is a poetry podcast anyone can enjoy.

Episode 110 - Snake White, Owl White - Tacey Atsitty

9/25/2020

In this episode, Connor and Jack dive into the beautiful and challenging poem "Snake White, Owl White" by Tacey Atsitty. They discuss finding poem's powerful sound and rhythm, its complex and contradictory expression of self, and being joyously unmoored readers.

More about Atsitty [here](http://taceymatsitty.com/bio/).
Find Rain Scald [here](https://unmpress.com/books/rain-scald/9780826358677).

Snake White, Owl White
By: Tacey M. Atsitty

When I say that my cheek fell,
I mean the bone, the gliding

pell sunken. I mean how it hides
in rain, in a sky-lit cell, swelling.

This is me fallen together,

separated from her, that mistelling

of Female Warrior Who Split
in Two, who pulled from her gut-well

a lumpy snake, pale with a scaling tongue;
word-slit. I’ve heaved her pang, her yell

at the snap of his tail. They drop
like words at the end, a quell

to the flood-line of an uvula,
a face, a cheek pouch—high like shell

veins. Birds swim silver
in the sky. An owl drops to dwell

with me. Gapes. It’s death.
I step back. I can’t tell

how he rises and dives at me, then turns
flight just before my head. When I tell you

this is where bone rises to white,
I mean tomorrow, a minute later, dive well.