Prints
Most of what enters us is not visible.
What if there were a tracking device for it,
a dye, a dust. Like the powder that clings
to surfaces that fingers have pressed against.
That is some detective’s job: to manufacture
the moment of contact, to prove who has
touched what. If you could toss this visibility
powder onto me, what impressions and streaks
would materialize. An infection snaking up
to my ear, or a sooty veil of doubt shrouding
my face. An exit wound in my back, just
below the heart. An iridescent film along
my whole body, indicative of experience
nestling into memory. What would we be
tracking. Would shapes and shadows pulled
from the air show what looms above.
This seems deeply felt. "An exit wound in my back, just / below the heart..." evokes such loss, and "what would we be / tracking...." implies inability to find.
ReplyDeleteInteresting forensic ideas. I especially love "An iridescent film along my whole body, indicative of experience nestling into memory."
ReplyDeleteAnother great write! I'm not one to analyze someone's poetry. I'll simply say you have a talent for painting with words the emotions assaulting your senses.
ReplyDeleteThis is another fantastic poem, prompting me to think, how do you do this?, create such complexity and depth?, so frequently? You are a great poet, Hannah, with a singular gift for observation and reflection that cannot be duplicated. I'm happy to have found your writing. I do hope you are putting together a collection and submitting them to a major publisher, and that this one will be included. This poem could be recast as the introduction to a short story or a novel; a powerful opening.
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