A body appears before language can claim it, and the poem protects its right to remain unresolved.
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Before the name, there is the body: a weight making room in the field. I do not call it lost. I do not call it mine. The light moves over its shoulders and leaves the question open. For once, I let the open stay.
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A thing without a practical name resists ownership and remains open to a less instrumental way of seeing.
A contemporary poem about the way the body misreads, using a concrete image system, a pressured turn and a restrained open ending.
A contemporary poem about two things stay down, using a concrete image system, a pressured turn and a restrained open ending.
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