I Only Speak Catharsis

By Abi Nosrati

Completely content to have only

the warmth from the blanket of stars

outside your house 

and in my side-pocket,

self-s

• Language: English
• Publisher: New Degree Press
• Release date: May 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9798885041508

Book preview

IOnlySpeakCatharsis-COVER.jpg

I Only Speak Catharsis

Abi Nosrati

New Degree Press

Copyright © 2022 Abi Nosrati

All rights reserved.

I Only Speak Catharsis

ISBN 979-8-88504-918-4 Paperback

979-8-88504-601-5 Kindle Ebook

979-8-88504-150-8 Ebook

This book is dedicated to:

Every friend I ever showed a poem to through the many years.

To a couple I saw once in 2016.

To my friends in high school who’d stay up with me

on endless calls,

who taught me to feel how I feel and not be sorry for it.

To my friend who turned to me in 2012 and said I

should be a writer, after there was one lyric I couldn’t get out of my head for months. Thank you for believing in me.

Thank you to my friends in college who have stood by me, who have shaped me.

You know who you are and I am

forever empowered by having known you.

To those who betrayed me,

thanks for the lessons and inspiration. I know you are reading this and

I hope you are doing better today.

To the superstars and authors who I wish to call up, your words have given me reason to open my eyes.

To my school and university teachers, thank you for letting me speak my mind in rooms of people. You have given me the space to believe in myself as a person and as a writer.

And to my family, thank you.

I am grateful for my parents who taught me sacrifice—

You have given everything for me. To speak English at all is a gift, let alone write poetry.

I am forever grateful.

I hope you all know how your words have deeply affected me.

Each of you, whether you know it or not, has given life meaning to me.

And for that, I love you.

Contents

IOSC- AUTHOR’S NOTE

1. Carousel (of ‘Carousel’ Trio)

2. Finally / The Song Went Like This (of ‘Carousel’ Trio)

3. Meet Me (of ‘Carousel’ trio)

4. Hey, I’m Abi

5. A Children’s Swimming Pool

6. The Human Heart

7. Beverly Hills

8. Wilt

9. Red Lipstick

10. Wishing Well

11. Child Bride

12. Holden

13. Like I Am

14. Middle of Three

15. Erosion

16. December

17. Trust

18. Humanity

19. Pinball Machine

20. Peace

21. Whiskey Kills

22. Friends

23. That Little Flame I Begged to Be

24. Rust

25. Scar Like Mine

26. Grow

27. The Visit

28. Undone

29. To Be Loved by a Poet

30. Promise Me Now

31. The Maggots Will Know Me Better Than You Do

32. Planets

33. Tatted

34. Eardrums

35. My Organs Know I’m About to Lose Something

36. Letters Lie

37. One Hundred Three

38. Selfish

39. There was an alliance within our war.

40. A Revolving Door of Begging Eyes

41. Choose To

42. Tie the Knot

43. Free Her

44. Fractured Eyes

45. Under Covers

46. Why They Always Saw More to Us

47. Poisoned (I’d Probably Get You Soap)

48. Honest and Real

49. Marrow Song

50. Phantom Pain

51. To: Every Girl from School

52. I Bleed

53. Abandoned

54. Secondhand

55. Stitch Words into My Right Side

56. Unreliable

57. I Think My Scars Speak to Yours

58. I Am Sitting in a Room of 100 People Writing This

59. Confetti

60. Made of Fire

61. Five, 6

Headlights

62. A Writer

FUTHER READING AND RESOURCES

Acknowledgements

I held hands with her all the time, for instance. That doesn’t sound like much, I realize, but she was terrific to hold hands with… Jane was different. We’d get into a gddam movie or something, and right away we’d start holding hands, and we wouldn’t quit till the movie was over. And without changing the position or making a big deal out of it. You never even worried, with Jane, whether your hand was sweaty or not. All you knew was, you were happy. You really were.

-J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye, page 103

IOSC- AUTHOR’S NOTE

For those who don’t know me and those who think they do, hey, I’m Abi. I was born Avigail, then became Abigail. I grew up in a Jewish household raised by foreigners in Los Angeles. My parents were born in Iran and grew up in Israel. I’m everything a middle child is and more.

I started writing at twelve or thirteen years old, under other names. Words were always too real to me. They gave permanence to thoughts that otherwise swam in my head. Make no mistake, writers write because they are inherently lonely. They live always alone in their own minds—no matter how extroverted and happy they may be.

I was the