Jack Apollo Hartley
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Jack Apollo Hartley (he/him) is a poet, Gemini, and dissatisfied only child. His work can be found in perhappened, Wrongdoing Magazine, warning lines, and other lovely places, but he’s loudest on his Twitter @jackpollyharts.
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dioscuri, halved
or: I name myself after a twin
I will be like a present unraveling for you. okay? ribbon tied untied tied again loose. I will
tell you everything. like a puzzle laid out so neat you can put it together with a shake of the
table.
another simile, if it’ll help you get it /
—I will be like a clementine tangerine /
cutie mandarin whatever it is under /
those hot lights in the store /
waiting to be bared. //
alone, I do it myself—contort my arms, tear myself slow along each seam so the thin
membranes peel apart without breaking. then I seal myself up again. leave a dent for you to
thumb.
I promise, baby, I will burst apart /
in your hands. I have done this before. /
countless times I have done this before /
with no one to see /
how cleanly I do it. //
tell you everything. like a puzzle laid out so neat you can put it together with a shake of the
table.
another simile, if it’ll help you get it /
—I will be like a clementine tangerine /
cutie mandarin whatever it is under /
those hot lights in the store /
waiting to be bared. //
alone, I do it myself—contort my arms, tear myself slow along each seam so the thin
membranes peel apart without breaking. then I seal myself up again. leave a dent for you to
thumb.
I promise, baby, I will burst apart /
in your hands. I have done this before. /
countless times I have done this before /
with no one to see /
how cleanly I do it. //
Commentary
Jack on “dioscuri, halved”:
This poem is one of those works that are so awkwardly autobiographical you want to hide them as much as you want to show them off—but I think there’s a charm to those! (And, you know, I hope some readers agree.)
Between the Dioscuri that make up my sign and their semi-brother Apollo, my namesake, I saw a potential to talk about that yearning some of us have for being seen and understood on the level a divine twin might be capable of. On the mechanics side, I wanted to evoke that twin imagery: two titles and two sets of stanzas with four lines each and an extra unpaired. Each successive metaphor, as well, is intended to build the feeling of the yearning’s intensity. Not only is the speaker craving to be understood as a whole, but even in the attempt to explain they are desperate. This particular desperation—wanting something so badly that you’ll do all the work for someone—is so vulnerable to me. How intimate, yet not. You don’t even need them to figure you out. You just need them to look.
Assistant Editor Morgan Ridgway on “dioscuri, halved”:
This poem begins with such an earnest longing and doesn’t let go. It speaks to the yearning so many, perhaps all of us somewhere, have to be understood to a depth we often cannot fully articulate. Each metaphor builds upon the next creating an intensity of yearning, a compounding desperation, and we wonder if the speaker will at last be understood in their entirety. In such desperation sits a level of vulnerability as the speaker proclaims they will do all the intimate work of exposure because the desire to be understood is simply that great. This poem challenges us, asks us to interrogate how far we will go to be seen, to what depths do we seek to be understood, and in the end presents the desire to be known as part of the vulnerable condition of living.
This poem is one of those works that are so awkwardly autobiographical you want to hide them as much as you want to show them off—but I think there’s a charm to those! (And, you know, I hope some readers agree.)
Between the Dioscuri that make up my sign and their semi-brother Apollo, my namesake, I saw a potential to talk about that yearning some of us have for being seen and understood on the level a divine twin might be capable of. On the mechanics side, I wanted to evoke that twin imagery: two titles and two sets of stanzas with four lines each and an extra unpaired. Each successive metaphor, as well, is intended to build the feeling of the yearning’s intensity. Not only is the speaker craving to be understood as a whole, but even in the attempt to explain they are desperate. This particular desperation—wanting something so badly that you’ll do all the work for someone—is so vulnerable to me. How intimate, yet not. You don’t even need them to figure you out. You just need them to look.
Assistant Editor Morgan Ridgway on “dioscuri, halved”:
This poem begins with such an earnest longing and doesn’t let go. It speaks to the yearning so many, perhaps all of us somewhere, have to be understood to a depth we often cannot fully articulate. Each metaphor builds upon the next creating an intensity of yearning, a compounding desperation, and we wonder if the speaker will at last be understood in their entirety. In such desperation sits a level of vulnerability as the speaker proclaims they will do all the intimate work of exposure because the desire to be understood is simply that great. This poem challenges us, asks us to interrogate how far we will go to be seen, to what depths do we seek to be understood, and in the end presents the desire to be known as part of the vulnerable condition of living.
