The Last Exotic Petting Zoo is Jessica Tyner's debut poetry anthology comprised of twelve years of writing. A series of epochs, the reader is led down a spectrum of fragments in time saturated with loss, love and hope. Spanning several countries and facets of relationships, Jessica delves into the underbelly of familial strife and awakenings from a childhood with bi-racial parents to the loss of her father. Featuring glimpses into the reality of the relationship with the self, from infatuation to despite, key pieces dig in deep to the most incestuous relationship everyone has. Each piece segues seamlessly to the next, a love story told piece by piece until they become one unstoppable force-just as such stories are meant to be and always have been.




AUTHOR


Jessica Tyner, born and raised in Oregon is a member of the Cherokee Nation, a Pushcart Prize nominee and a graduate of the Ooligan Press program. Ms. Tyner received her master's degree in Writing from Portland State University, having completed the second year of the program, as an intern with the Fulbright Commission in London, England. An extensive traveler, she has lived in England, South Korea and Costa Rica and has had her poetry published around the world. She's the founder of The Jessica Tyner Scholarship Fund, an annual gift for graduate students with a Native American connection who are pursuing an advanced degree in writing or a related field.





BOOK EXCERPT


PASSING


I was twelve before I realized my father wasn't white,

until then I thought nothing

of his clay colored skin, eyes dripping

like honey or ropes of black licorice hair

snaking alive and furious down his back.

My breasts sprung early, hips splayed

wide as an overeager invitation

with bones pushing unforgiving

against my own skin, pale and quiet

as the illness. You took me to Radio Shack,

your syrupy southern drawl wrapping like a shy gift

around the simple words,

My wife put something on hold,

and the young clerk, not a decade older than me,

looked at both of us with blatant disgust,

loathing and a shot of envy

even I could sniff out, like a dog

or a wild thing.

Is this your wife? he asked, and my chest

was in a painful awakening of an instant

freakishly large, my hips

unable to slam shut, and you

too stunned to be ashamed or angered just whispered,

That's my daughter before walking out, the snakes gone still,

but for the years I'm too sorry to take back,

the years until the cancer sucked you dry,

I felt it for both of us,

felt it in my thighs built like a horse

and my lips too ripe for a child,

in every year after labor heavy year

I refused to be seen with you, I'm so sorry

that I saw you gut punched and ugly as a man.