"The silverfish found me, chewed through
my hurt, making a lacy map
of beautiful words,
which I can recollect beside the box of dishes,
the botanical prints. Though the bodies
of the insects are gone,
they lived a while on my sadness, my petty
text. Extracting some nutrient
and leaving the rest."
my hurt, making a lacy map
of beautiful words,
which I can recollect beside the box of dishes,
the botanical prints. Though the bodies
of the insects are gone,
they lived a while on my sadness, my petty
text. Extracting some nutrient
and leaving the rest."
— From “Silverfish,” a poem in Paula Bohince’s The Children, reviewed by Virginia Konchan over at the Rumpus. (via therumpus)
(via therumpus)
