FIELD

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According to myth, Napoleon loved licorice and cheated at cards. He had beautiful hands. He brandished his empire like a sword and changed the maps. The future doesn’t just happen, it gets built. See what you can get away with. When Napoleon crossed the Alps, his future was in front of him. He laced up his boots. He slid through the pass. Halfway up the stairs is a difficult thing. Standing in the doorway is a difficult thing. I stood in the doorway. My future was in front of me. I was uncomfortable. I was getting a sense of who I was and I didn’t like it. Identity is self-defense. I defended myself. I threw my full weight in to earn a foothold. I told myself a story about myself and bought myself some time. You learn to be you so you aren’t stuck being everything. I remember that. That’s what I said. I told them that. I wanted to seem less disappointing. It wasn’t what they thought I was remembering. If it can be done, there’s a way to do it poorly. So what are you doing? Ask yourself, seriously. Is this who you are? I didn’t like what I was remembering. You got some interesting clouds fucking up your sky tonight, amigo. There’s snow in my hair. My mouth is a dark line. This sweater has a zipper. The story becomes the field in which I become who I am. Who you are and who you think you are: they grind against each other, sand in the frosting. I wanted to defend my new self from my old self. I didn’t want to be him anymore. You live on this side now. The thought crackled through the room. I sat, the stakes shifted, and the field split wide. You have to be bold to get anything done—willing to get trampled by elephants or seduced by diplomats in an orange grove. Love is easy in an orange grove. Napoleon went batshit crazy and the whole world took two steps back. That’s part of the appeal, I guess. Clock a pawn and spend his minutes or stalemate kings into exhaustion. You might get knighted, you might become a workhorse. I found myself deep in the middle game, faced with some choices, and the rooks felt the wind at their backs, shivering at the edge of the board, waiting to be seized by talons and carried away.

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BIO: ​

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Richard Siken is a poet and painter. His book Crush won the 2004 Yale Series of Younger Poets prize, selected by Louise Glück, a Lambda Literary Award, a Thom Gunn Award, and was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award. His other books are War of the Foxes (Copper Canyon Press, 2015) and I Do Know Some Things (forthcoming, Copper Canyon Press, 2025). Siken is a recipient of two Lannan Fellowships and a fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts. He lives in Tucson, Arizona.