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Jill McDonoughOctober 22, 1659: Mary Dyer Boston, Massachusetts She walked between two men. All three bound to be hanged, the greatest joy and honor in this world for Quaker missionaries found in Boston. First, she watched them hang the men, hemp rope tossed over the limb of the elm. Then that noose around her neck, her arms bound tight behind her back, and Wilson’s handkerchief tied loose over her face. Her homespun skirts were tied around her ankles after she climbed the rungs that they had climbed. A ladder, a hanging tree. No eye can see, no ear can hear, no tongue can speak her willingness to die. They freed her then, untied her, granted her reprieve: she heard, but could not move, and would not leave. This poem first appeared in Threepenny Review
Author's Statement
I'm an adjunct professor in the Boston area, teaching writing in prisons and several universities. Generally I teach five classes a semester, and three in the summer. When I learned about the fellowship, I emailed all of my bosses to ask if I could take off a semester and still be welcome back. The money made the time off possible, but I think the prestige of the award helped insure I didn't lose my jobs. I've been working for five years on a book of sonnets, each about an execution in American history. They require a lot of research as well as writing time; I've been fitting the writing in between classes, and setting it aside to grade papers. With my time off, I was able to spend whole days in the library. Now I've completed my manuscript, Habeas Corpus, and submitted it to publishers and first book contests.
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Jill McDonough's poems have appeared in Poetry, Threepenny Review, and Slate. She is currently a fellow at The Dorothy and Lewis B. Cullman Center for Scholars and Writers at the New York Public Library. Photo by Susan Mikula
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