|Jennifer Chang [Kimmel Harding Nelson Center for the Arts]|
from Jennifer Chang's The History of Anonymity:
And the night illuminated the night
No one sees how night fades you.
Not the stars' lambent sparks —
born blind, light years gone.
Even you don't see
the black line of yourself,
you slowly come to, a shadow gift.
You're the kind
who walks into a forest
indistinguishable from the trees.
Find a ghost reflection
in the field
with the moon's graylight — why is splendor
Be branch and dirt,
be stiff as your oak skin, oak heart.
No one led you here,
only dark curiosity, the trail
trained to lose you.
Inside, you have a longing
but it is hard.
You could have been odd,
a fiddlehead: embryonic
and translucent, it waits to unfurl,
to spore. You could have been a white thread
tangled in the grass,
a thing that feigns glowing,
a thing that feigns.