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.