& the initial premise?
I am holding a picture of my sister’s unborn child, its face
seemingly reflective.
Does this change anything, this window into the soul
when the soul is forming, heart
like a closed rose?
Or similarly what of the call to criticism? That we should take up the pen
& critique?
In the photo, my Ur-niece is a small moon, the wrought spoons of her hands
art.
Because something is fundamentally changed by this kind of seeing—
to think that I knew you
before you were.
Or the dilemma of having a critical language before the poem
physically exists—i.e. theory superseding the line.
Yes, there is a beauty in transparency, in explanation,
in rendering.
But I want the difficulty, the first there was nothing
& the then there was light.
In my hands the image of her body like the prow of something
wriggling into being.
Because poetry should inform theory & not the other way around.
Sophie.
ISSUE: Winter 2004