Audio: Read by the author.
This is not a tragedy / it does not satisfy
the unities of action / or time or place Aristotle
would say this is / incomplete in the whole
& on the whole / I would agree this is
not your tragedy this is / a scrap a slip a fragment
a swatch of fabric cut / off the roll laid against
the old pillow to see how / it becomes your coloring
or the shades of the room / window shades down
other shades hovering / this is a snippet a snag
a snapshot Barthes’s / what has been & is
no more this does / not satisfy a poetics
it’s too ordinary not the / ordinary of comfort food
the ordinary of sand / in your teeth each
grain of dead quartz / helical when a hurricane
hits after midnight / & it’s no longer the day
it was but has become / another morning mourning
we are carried through / the gulf sand clings
disrupts what could be said / of location & when
the question / Is this pretend?
compose decompose / recompose
one day the red chair / one day the garden one day
only the lilies still bloom / they are made of silk
Kate Bolton Bonnici grew up in Alabama and is a graduate of Harvard, NYU Law, UC Riverside, and UCLA. Her poetry collection, Night Burial, won the 2020 Colorado Prize for Poetry. She teaches at UCLA.
The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.