When I have died, come find me on the planet of
feverish with rings and whole days spent howling
the syllables of your name,
heron nests floating in mid-space,
my footprints in the metallic dirt.
Come and tell me about our children.
Tell me about our babies and if the little one
is still praying for Dalmatians and
What did you tell her when I died?
Where did you say I went? Braiding tree bark in
the maples or perhaps a goat sitting sweet in a beach
hut, lambs for friends. I’ll be okay. Tell her.
Whisper to her—that first warm flesh
like soft apples in your arms.
Tell her the planet is spreading
outward and will one day
share the seawater,
share the rings bruising against
— Megan Fernandes, author of The Kingdom and After
T. S. Poetry
From Tanzania to Portugal, from India to Iraq, The Kingdom and After charts the 21st-century imaginative echo of empire and displacement in our current moment of terror and globalization. Sometimes written in frank, shrunken lines and other times exploding with surrealist, jurassic imagery, the poems witness an associative mind leaping from bone temples in Tanga to the pumiced surface of extraterrestrial oceans, from a panic attack in Mumbai to the tumbling spirits of the Big Sur coastline. These poems articulate a complex portrait of female sexuality and personhood. Not only excavating the legacy of empire with philosophical rigor, the speaker also dwells in humiliation and wonder, accusation and regret, while trying to envision what indeed remains after the era of kingdoms and kinghood.