When I think of violence,
its acclimation to any country,
I think of cedars on limestone
cliff-edge and shore pines growing
wind-trained. By the look of it, death
is a bright thing married to the sun.

The day it gives, its warmth. The sun,
a rotund thing. Plump as death.
I want to find a country
whose stomach is done growing.
I want to cast the first stone.

I want to be a sure thing, stone
cold. There is money growing
in the fields now. The country,
I’m sure, smells of death.

I cannot say that I like death
after all of this. There is a time and a [country]
for everything. Says god, all wise and grown.

I have never stopped growing
queerness. Mine is a bright country.

Full of the sun, my country.

About the author

Joa Bren Smith is a poet and MFA candidate at the University of Montana. Originally from a small coastal town next to Lake Michigan, Joa spent much of their youth outdoors. When not reading or writing, they might be teaching, farming, swimming, or playing with their camera. Their work has appeared or is forthcoming in Hooligan Magazine, Poets.org, Allegheny Review, and others. You can find Joa on instagram @joabrensmith or on Substack @joabren. Their poem My Queer Country won the 2025 Madeline DeFrees award, judged by Samuel Ace. You can also find their poem on poets.org.