Madison Backes’ Creative Portfolio:
Polished and Creative Photography, Editing, and Writing
To the Photon:
Are you careful
when you dance
among the clusters of stars
and swirl among the galaxies?
Do you dare
step foot past the accretion disks
to toe the horizon
of the dying sun?
Because the Singularity
is always hungry
it has already captured
Cygnus and Cassiopeia,
and pulled me apart —
It gripped my neck
and twisted my mind
until Spacetime was bent
beyond repair —
It’s dark here
no Ignis Fatuus
to light the way
or Aurora Borealis
to guide you,
Time dilation has warped
every alarm clock —
Can you be sure you aren’t dreaming?
I never woke up.
The word octopus was born
Deep and convulsing
In the depths of throats,
On tongues reciting sailing stories;
It gave life
To the mystery of the Bermuda Triangle
And wrapped around the oars
Of rowboats and galleys.
Terrifying pirates, it grew:
From Krakens to Monsters,
Heroes to Gods;
It lingers still
In bedtime stories
And touch tanks,
Made small
By children’s hands.
“Cool / from the night air, and as / gentle as the scent of jasmine in our garden”
— “Intimacy” from Perigee
An Ode to My Mother’s Heels:
The first time I wore them
was at a wedding —
Canvas colored
strappy, but forgiving,
that I paired with a mauve dress.
They hugged my girlish steps
into femininity
and placed me on the stairs
to walk toward the high ground.
I thought,
when I put them on,
that they made me taller
than the stares of old men.
When I practiced walking in them,
it felt like buckling a seatbelt
across my heels –
a cautionary tale of harsh edges
and chafing,
But when I wore them
with a dress and makeup-done,
they whispered to me
of power.
“Here,” they said
“This is being a woman,”
“This is beautiful and strong,”
so that by the end of the night,
I had dodged
the quicksand-lawn
and nonconsensual stares,
and I had welcomed
the red-diamond latticework
imprinted onto my feet,
as an even exchange
for feeling strong.
The heels stand, now,
on my closet floor
Because my mother says,
“They’re too big for me now that you’ve worn them”
But really,
I think she liked the way
I walked
when the heels echoed
behind me.
Gilded
Golden fingertips brush the palette
Of your eyeshadow —
Too heavy a hand!
Your skin becomes plated:
Like a slow frozen lake;
Such is the curse
Of Midas.
Poetry has always been my solace, a craft that demands patience, precision, and attention to detail. Above see my portfolio, or click to see a collection of my work:
Editing and Proofreading Services
Writing with AI is simple, easy, effective – but do you ever feel like your individual voice can be lost in the process? Editing your drafts is my passion, and making your writing shine is my goal.
I hope you’ve gotten a taste of my writing style, and enjoyed reading poetry that I’ve written. To see my chapbook, prose, and more of my writing visit My Collection.