At this rate, all our disappearances

By Suzanne Edison

Light and movement destroy
the materiality of bodies—Futurist Manifesto

Speed of atoms colliding, heating,

like our arguments boil and steam, splitting

us apart.

              The guns you insist

on keeping, locked and stowed, the ammo separately

hidden, incite my fears: speed of

bullets, bodies as wave or particle. Would you

or I...ever turn against…in anger

do they keep us...

our happiness hanging, Damoclean?



We refuse to sit, nothing stays

still. Salt, ammonia, the bitter

chloride of our helplessness, molten.

            I want those damn guns gone!

You buy a cabinet for them.

Quartzite threads of us dissolve, flow

with our words. As fast as these black letters

absorb, convert

to heat, rising off the white reflective page,

lines appear. I am either pulling you in or

casting you away.

Lines on your face. Our voices
retreat. You hear me

calling from another room.



About the Author

Suzanne Edison’s chapbook of poems, The Moth Eaten World, was published in 2014. Her work can be found in What Rough Beast, Bombay Gin, The Naugatuck River Review, The Ekphrastic Review, Ars Medica, Spillway, The Examined Life Journal, and elsewhere. She lives under a wet sky in Seattle. www.seedison.com.


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