Speech is Not Free-Shelley Marlow

I Remember 1963—1973 (after Joe Brainard)

I remember red roses next to Mildred’s backyard and front porch.
The smell of bleach inside of school halls.
white socks meant you were queer.
The extensive green lawns at Kennedy’s televised funeral.
Multicolored marbles that we rolled on parquet wood stairs.
I remember my third grade teacher who had my birthday and taught John Cage and music composition to us. She said I was the only one in class who understood. The same teacher had a thing against kids named Mark. She made a student named Mark in my class, cry.
I remember the many colors of the rose petals in a high pile near the rose garden after hearing of my aunt’s death.
I remember the magic of aqua crayons.
My first used tampon hidden in the closet.
A large lesbian was attacked with gasoline in a nearby town.
My father carved turkey like it was a sacred duty.
Every time my father’s cousins visited, something would break: mousetrap game, a fancy glass, my middle finger while we tossed a football.
I remember the other cousin hid behind her pocketbook in a photo on the front page of the Boston Globe.
I remember chocolate pudding with smoked oysters on top at the art school graduation party. The student who brought it said they hoped to deter too many people from eating the pudding.
I remember borrowing my father’s collapsible top hat to wear to that party.
I remember the top hat was stolen that night.
I remember longing for a Batman’s utility belt.
I remember Cushman Amesbury painting in my studio in Central Square, Cambridge.
I remember snow cone makers advertisements.
I remember Everyone Knows It’s Windy.
I remember wanting a pet monkey or a tiny person.
I remember my first guitar.
I remember my first electric guitar.
I remember silver sparkles in the electric guitar.
I remember patent leather red, yellow, or green shoes on kids that celebrated Easter.

Shelley Marlow 2020 ongoing

Shelley Marlow at Aller Retour Paris dinner in Paris, France

Shelley Marlow wrote Two Augusts In a Row In a Row, a novel (Publication Studio, Portland, 2015) plus art editions (Hudson and London, 2017); and the new manuscript The Wind Blew Through Like a Chorus of Ghosts. Marlow is a recipient of an Acker Award in writing. Multigenerational communities gathered to celebrate and perform scenes from Two Augusts In a Row In a Row at the London Centre for Book Arts and NYC’s Bureau of General Services Queer Division. Marlow served as prose editor of The Henry Miller Library’s literary journal. Marlow’s writing and art appear in Resist Much/Obey Little, Inaugural Poems to the Resistance; Evergreen Review; Hyperallergic; KGB Bar Lit Mag; the Rail; Altar-ed Bodies, Clarity Haynes; Rilking; LTTR (Lesbians To The Rescue); alLuPiNiT; St. Petersburg Review.