Book Report: The Poet X

6. Elizabeth Acevedo, The Poet X (2018) (1/25/21)

An honest, vibrant novel-in-verse featuring 15-year-old Xiomara, the daughter of older Dominican parents, twin sister to Xavier, living in Harlem, going to school, attending confirmation classes at her conservatively devout mother's behest, falling for a boy, Aman, confiding in her best friend, Caridad—and most important, coming into her own as a confident, passionate poet, encouraged by her teacher Ms. Galiano: this book was a delight to whip right through. Indeed, reading it all at once in several big gulps made Xio's trials and tribulations over the course of a little over five months that much more heart-rending and, in the end, gratifying. We know this young woman, this poet, will succeed in life.

Here are a couple of samplings:

How I Feel about Attention

If Medusa was Dominican
and had a daughter, I think I'd be her.
I look and feel like a myth.
A story distorted, waiting for others to stop
and stare.

             Tight curls that spring like fireworks
out of my scalp. A full mouth pressed hard
like a razor's edge. Lashes that are too long
so they make me almost pretty.

                                                    If Medusa
was Dominican and had a daughter, she might
wonder at this curse. At how her blood
is always becoming some fake hero's mission.
Something to be slayed, conquered.

If I was her kid, Medusa would tell me her secrets:
how it is that her looks stop men
in their tracks                why they still keep on coming.
How she outmaneuvers them when they do.

                                                  *

Tuesday, September 25
What I Didn't Say to Caridad in Confirmation Class

I wanted to tell her that if Aman were a poem
he'd be written slumped across the page,
sharp lines, and a witty punch line
written on a bodega brown paper bag.

His hands, writing gently on our lab reports,
turned into imagery,
his smile the sweetest unclichéd simile.

He is not elegant enough for a sonnet,
too well-thought-out for a free write,
taking too much space in my thoughts
to ever be a haiku.