Poetry Susan Rich — August 21, 2013 10:52 — 1 Comment
The Tangible, Intangible – Susan Rich
after a photograph by Hannah Maynard
on the death of her child, c. 1887
Afterwards, she surveys the site:
the jostled cups, a buffalo rug
faded burlap of bookcase
overstuffed with tromp l’oeil painted spines.
The sound of the photograph
would be island rain
and the animal cry of the child gone—
In the darkroom she works alone
cajoles waterfalls, brings to light
the floating picture frame,
the doily’s difficult knowledge —
Commonplace days she survives
with a mirror trick, a few glass plates
that echo don’t let go; let go.
One Comment
Leave a Reply
What am I?
Bioluminescent eye
That sees by the shine
Of its own light. Lies
Blind me. I am the seventh human sense
And my stepchild,
Consequence;
Scientists can't find me.
Januswise I make us men;
Glamour
Was my image then—
Remind me:
The awful fall up off all fours
From the forest
To the hours…
Tick, Tock: Divine me.
-- Richard Kenney
Exquisite!