SEAM ALLOWANCE
  • Home
  • Submit
  • Masthead
  • Archive
  • News
Chris McCreary's poem "Apophenomena" has been paired with a semitransparent cropped flightsuit from Rick Owens' 2026 "Temple" show. Made from Italian "black/milk" silk chiffon, this striking Owens garment features a reproduction of the designer's astrological birth chart, as drawn by his father John on the day of his birth (Nov. 18, 1961, 9:32 am). McCreary's poem opens with a "father's topcoat" that bears the "template" for a "temple." The architectonic topcoat, juxtaposed with a "spurious birth / certificate," instantly casts doubt over the speaker's origin. Owens' choice to reproduce his father's hand-drawn birth chart on one of his garments feels curious since he has spoken before about their "difficult relationship." From the very beginning (including the poem's title), it's apparent that readers of this poem must be attentive observers. In McCreary's poetry, no detail ever feels insignificant; even the smallest sign - a comma - demands scrutiny.
​​​— Paul Cunningham, Editor


​
​
Picture

​



​Apophenomena

​
The   template   for   the    temple    we’re
building’s  chalked on father's topcoat as
we   teethe   its   soft   cloth   at   sleeve’s
length,  a   wrinkle,  really,  in   points   of
articulation  to   be ironed or in shrinkage
better    fit    for   armature’s   assemblage
cracked   &   chipped :  spindles,  dowels,
bits of twine all mine. From the depths of
his    rolltop    desk,    my   spurious   birth
certificate,      reports     of      your    poor
deportment.    From   one   voluptuary   to
another,     this      huffing    of    ambergris
straight from the brazier.
 
Months  slump,  speed  up  once  plaster’s
cast  as  amuse  bouche  before  that  long
slog    to    the    medicine    cabinet   made
lambent     by     candelabra.     Amid    the
intermittent    rigmarole,    how   cleansing
our   micellar  waters,  how  bountiful  our
towels    even   if   citrus   molders   in   the
emergency   nurse’s  purse.  Or  you're  the
remote      docent      &     I’m     bedridden,
sequestered   amid  this  ephemera.  Every
comma’s   a   coma,   your  metamorphosis
into   cheerful   voice   in  an   earpiece  the
​noisy morphia of caprice.









Chris McCreary's latest book of poems, awry, was published by White Stag in 2024. He lives in Philadelphia.
Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.
  • Home
  • Submit
  • Masthead
  • Archive
  • News