Sunday, September 8, 2024

CYAN JAMES—"Q: ARE YOU CONCERNED ABOUT DIABETES" (Issue 28)

Q: ARE YOU CONCERNED ABOUT DIABETES

A: Sugar is more bam per gram than gunpowder but that’s only a 
fact not a feeling 

Kinds of sugar: caster, granulated, pearl, cane, demerara, turbinado, 
muscovado. Sounds like bachata song titles. Juicy entanglement. Ever smelled 
a cane field on fire? Piccolo note of sweet among the whirling pillar of smoke, 
hawks up high to pierce all the mammals on fire rushing the field’s edges. 

It kills kills kills even though it purrs so loud it fills your mouth it’s still a tiger 
in your kitchen. Possible to imagine people as the personified causes of their 
deaths, such as corpses like a row of frosted cakes in frilly white wrappers 

We make it at seven ounces a day per person, 160 pounds per person per year, 
enough to bury us all. How often we say ‘I love you’ or ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘let’s 
celebrate’ with the slow poison of custards, pecan pie, butter biscuits with tea 

Basterdsuiker: what the Dutch called adding molasses. Sugar so prestigious 
when pure, colonists gobbled it until they got black teeth. If they couldn’t buy 
it, they blackened their teeth to appear rich enough (to be giving themselves 
gum rot), and that’s just about everything you need to know about my people.



ABOUT THE POET 

Cyan James holds an MFA from the University of Michigan. Her work has been 
nominated for two Pushcart Prizes and published in Gettysburg Review, Michigan 
Quarterly Review, Arkansas Review, New Mexico Review, Harvard Review, and 
Salon, among others. She also holds a PhD in public-health genetics and works in 
health policy. Currently she is revising a novel about the young women who 
survived the Green River Killer. She loves fiddles, falconry, long road trips, and 
old front porches.



ABOUT SUGAR HOUSE REVIEW 


We loved reading the work that we’ve published (clearly), and we want an 
opportunity to better hear our contributors. We're featuring audio recordings of 
poems from our pages, read by the poet. This an open invitation to all contributors 
from any of our issues, we were delighted to print your work, now we’re eager to 
hear it.

Sunday, September 1, 2024

ANN-MARIE BLANCHARD—"FIDELITY IS NOT DEAD" (Issue 28)

FIDELITY IS NOT DEAD

Fidelity’s baby is dead. She named him Bruce 
and he said goodbye, slipped into the toilet, 
stingray resplendent. It hurt. Fidelity scooped 

his jelly body out the bowl and buried him under 
the camelia, placed a brick over his head; a Virgin 
of Guadalupe candle too (even though she’s had it 

with the Virgin). Some women don’t bury their jelly 
babies. Some don’t give them names. Some don’t 
tell anyone they birthed a jelly baby on the weekend. 

Fidelity is not some women. Fidelity tries to trust 
her body again—invites it out for coffee, asks what 
it does for a living; doctors tell her body to try again. 

Fidelity tries to chart her surges, tries to make love 
even though love makes death. People say her dead 
baby is the shade of hope. When did they last birth 

a stingray? Don’t tell Fidelity about hope. Don’t tell 
her about fish oil. Don’t tell her about mystics. Don’t 
tell her to stick needles in her body at strategic points. 

Don’t tell Fidelity she’s thirty-eight, daily. Don’t tell 
her about prayer beads, holy water, wine fasts and 
running fast. Fidelity knows a thing or two about 

quackery. Fidelity prefers boa constrictors to babies, 
falcons to friends, lizards to lovers, horn sharks to hope.



ABOUT THE POET 

Ann-Marie Blanchard teaches poetry and philosophy at The University of Notre 
Dame on the west coast of Australia, having taught writing for a decade at 
universities in the US. Her work has appeared in The Missouri Review, A Public 
Space, Adroit Journal, Palette Poetry, Meanjin QuarterlyWesterly, Cordite 
Poetry Review, and elsewhere. In 2022, she won The Missouri Review 
Editors’ Prize in Fiction.



ABOUT SUGAR HOUSE REVIEW 


We loved reading the work that we’ve published (clearly), and we want an 
opportunity to better hear our contributors. We're featuring audio recordings of 
poems from our pages, read by the poet. This an open invitation to all contributors 
from any of our issues, we were delighted to print your work, now we’re eager to 
hear it.