Another Thing Invisible to the Eye
Paper wasp’s nest, dark hollows coming to a point, another finger, and already
the woods are sopping up their own familiar dusk, gray funk of stone, of water
gathering under the needles, night eyes opening, crawling out of ground dark
into starlight, the soft speckled vision of misfiring cones, the eye itself reaching
straining towards the answers even the humblest thing, overlooked by the sun,
might give the colder light. The stars are steady, more sure than any sun.
Not quite unrequited, this. Single shaft of silver caught in the jelly of sense,
already becoming invisible, already missed, no longer, like this I, essential.
Take me to the river of things once loved and drown me there
never the same way twice.
Kim Garcia's "Another Thing Invisible to the Eye," as well as "Meditation on a Gorky Painting Titled by Breton" and "You Mentioned the Future, After Lovemaking" can be read in the print edition of The Arkansas International 2.
Kim Garcia’s recent work includes The Brighter House, winner of the 2015 White Pine Press Poetry Prize, and DRONE, winner of the 2015 Backwaters Prize, as well as Tales of the Sisters, Sow’s Ear Poetry Review’s chapbook prize. Garcia teaches creative writing at Boston College.