alone / together
August 26, 2019
Poet Ina Cariño reflects on a photograph by Southbound artist Susan Worsham. As part of our Call & Response series in conjunction with Southbound: Photographs of and about the New South, we’ve asked artists, writers, and poets to respond to a photograph of their choice in the form of short written pieces.
By Ina Cariño
alone / together
every day I try to secret the ruffle / of starling feathers into jars / but fail each time / I think they mimic those / of angels / plush & seedy / like rumpled coverlets flapping / in the wind / yes each morning I whisper / about precious things / like open palms / yesterday’s cousins / half-eaten fruit / its silk black nibs left to dry on a sheet of newspaper / in the sun / but there’s a special kind of unknowing in life / where I exist in the liminal / & everyone else flits around as I curl my skin tight / crumple it into a wad / spread it / back out again & try / to stitch it to those of angels / please / let me dream about lost things / without weeping / here in this crêpe myrtle town / my split youth gleaming / under the wisp of paper flowers / here / in this crabapple town / where I sit / or wait tables / let me weep without being heard here / in this sepia town / here / in this hush of a town / here in this languid town / let me listen to the stillness / of a once-beating heart / without weeping / without weeping / without weeping
Listen as Ina Cariño recites her poem:
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