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GLOW | QUEER POETRY FEATURE: Corey Qureshi

11/11/2019

 
Picture
Corey Qureshi is a queer writer and musician based in Philadelphia. They work at an LGBTQ+ center and give drum lessons. When they aren't working or making things, they're busy being a young parent and loving it. They're Blue Stoop alumni and read flash fiction for Homology Lit. Find a list of published work at neutralspaces.co/q_boxo. Follow them on twitter @q_boxo.

from the artist


Why do you write? What compels you to write?

I've always loved books and've wanted to write one since I was a kid. Sometimes, I really want to talk about the thousands of small moments and things we feel but don't notice daily. Other times I write to bring awareness to the discomforts of working for unlivable wages. It's never easy being the only queer and/or nonwhite person in a space where you're forced to serve and please consumers (largely my experience). I want others in these circumstances to feel seen, cause most of the time we're just shamed for admitting it's a struggle. Also love, always love.
What are some of your artistic influences/inspirations?
 
My main inspiration is Szuli, my 2 year old. They make me want to be fully invested in what I love instead of being passive. We only have so much time in this life! I also feel lucky to live in Philly, a city with many talented and uncapitalistic queer artists. Seeing people I know doing what they love makes me happy and is a constant motivation. Writers wise, this year I've been really into work by Rumi, Sam Delany, Jamaica Kincaid, Metropolarity, Babak Lakghomi, Wanda Coleman, Tagore, Nyumeh Waggeh and jamal rashad.  Earlier this year I was included in Imagoes: A Queer Anthology (Love, Pain & Poetry Publishing) and the artists involved are amazing! It felt really inspiring to be included.
On another note, I've played music for 15 years and have way more experience performing as a drummer than I do as a writer. Whatever biweekly soundtrack I'm looping always informs the writing… Rhythms, noises or singular melodies are sometimes the trigger for pieces I really love.
 
What upcoming writing projects are you working on?
 
I'm on the verge of finishing a chapbook of short fiction! It's about queers and the work they take on for unlivable wages. Also slowly gathering my poetry for a collection about the human body, health and sex. On the side with a much looser timeline, a friend and I are working on a collaborative book of poetry about our relation to masculinity as qpocs. 

Medicaid
​

Call this number between these times
On hold for 30 Minutes, in line
behind all the mothers and lovers
trying to get better or help family get better
We can't call out we can't stop working
so we all cram in this lobby
when we can
It's Tuesday nite,
I'm surprised doctors are
here this late
 
With Medicaid you rarely
see the same doctor twice,
But they'll all greet you
with an eerie familiarity
& my responses are always skeptical
I'm cooperative but I ask questions
cause they've misdiagnosed us before
They don't like the doubt
So I wait on the leather table with
paper slowly tearing under my asscheeks for
50+ minutes fingering brochures
on sexual health and dementia

I've seen two different
dentists and they've both
told me what's wrong in my mouth
Then tell me they won't do anything
till next time

Second appointment was a reintroduction
to my teeth's needs
by a new familiar stranger playing rnb
off his iPhone, his gloved hands
smooth, they don't split my lips (rare)
as he scrapes grime from ill treated gums
They say I brush too hard
They say I don't take care
"If they don't bleed you're good"
That's my rule of thumb

It's hard to take care
as everything crumbles
Doctors can't fix the way
Capitalism continually wounds us,
Making these moves
Feel like finger sized band aids
Over a constantly refreshed fist sized gash

Keep Going
Transphobic therapists
text machines that text me
asking where I was Saturday
but I keep going without a word
Will this other therapist help me
find someone affordable to talk to
even if I don't fuck him?
Our conversation pushed
further + further
into the bathroom I was trying to clean.
It was uncomfortable

We heal ourselves out of pocket
even on Medicaid.
Most solutions are homemade,
improvised but I still
give my kid the script
cough syrup we got @ CHOP
And i'll still go get these other
four cavities filled
And i'll still need to find someone
to talk to that isn't a friend
but that's all in time

Access

Attached at my belt most days of the week,
a clip with many keys

The few old labels hold but new ones are weak,
they rub off of my keys

I find what I need thru reference and memory,
it's the same seven keys

Intuition and guesses work for me
when I search for the keys

to your rhythm, to your smile, to your peace
My waist jingles with keys

as my legs carry me to our rendezvous
I see you at the keys

playing the sounds that bounce through your darkness,
the dynamics're key

for the syncopation of music and life
intersecting: The key's

in my front door, you'll follow thru the darkness
I wonder the key

you'll sing reacting to intersecting sparked flesh,
I see you with your keys

leaving my apartment in the morning,
I'll see you with the keys

i hold to this building, you're at work and
leaving us locked up — Keys

only work when needed, the rest is knobs
and screens and opinions


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  • Home
  • About
    • Staff
    • Board of Directors
    • Writers + Artists
    • Our Funders
  • Programs
    • Show Us Your Spines
    • Sister Spit
    • Ina: An Exploration of QTPOC Pleasure and Consent
    • Visual Arts Collaboration
    • Past Programs
  • Events
  • Blog
  • Contact
  • Donate
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