A body exists before classification, and the speaker confronts the violence of naming too quickly.
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A body under no name moves through the light. I nearly give it one. The word rises, polished and ready. Then I hear the body breathe. The word returns to my mouth. I keep the silence instead.
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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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