Poem: (Intuitions. She)
In Coral Bracho's poem, translated by Forrest Gander from Spanish, we witness the thoughts of the poet's mother, who died of Alzheimer's disease. The mother vividly portrays the terror of getting lost in a once capable and functioning mind and body. At first, she quickly answers her own questions with confusion and confidence. Soon the questions disappear, as she begins to describe the environment around her in a state of imaginative and surreal speculation. Selected by Victoria Chang
Credit...Illustration by R. O. BlechmanMy suitcase isn't there, but neither is the room. Which room ? I haven't been in any room here, but there must have been one. Did I sleep in it? There were people, but I don't know if I was there. Where did they leave their luggage? passed me before they entered the corridor. But in which one? All hallways are white, and they seem padded. It must be those two who brought me to this place. a more central corridor that must be around here somewhere, that's where the suitcases go, next to each other on a contraption of red tubes. But who knows if mine is there too. I hear the noise of the showers. They are fully open and the water is gushing and swirling, but there is something dirty that does not flow. First I have to find my suitcase, although there is no place in the showers to put it. The people who entered are no longer there. I will wait here, see if anyone comes by who can tell me how to get back. Or see if they want to guide me.
Victoria Chang is a poet whose new book of poems is "Trees Testify to Everything" (Copper Canyon Press, 2022) . Her fifth poetry book, "Obit" (2020), was named a New York Times Notable Book and a Time Must-Read. She lives in Los Angeles and teaches at the M.F.A. from the University of Antioch. program. Coral Bracho is the author of numerous collections of poetry, including "Firefly Under the Tongue" (New Dire...
In Coral Bracho's poem, translated by Forrest Gander from Spanish, we witness the thoughts of the poet's mother, who died of Alzheimer's disease. The mother vividly portrays the terror of getting lost in a once capable and functioning mind and body. At first, she quickly answers her own questions with confusion and confidence. Soon the questions disappear, as she begins to describe the environment around her in a state of imaginative and surreal speculation. Selected by Victoria Chang
Credit...Illustration by R. O. BlechmanMy suitcase isn't there, but neither is the room. Which room ? I haven't been in any room here, but there must have been one. Did I sleep in it? There were people, but I don't know if I was there. Where did they leave their luggage? passed me before they entered the corridor. But in which one? All hallways are white, and they seem padded. It must be those two who brought me to this place. a more central corridor that must be around here somewhere, that's where the suitcases go, next to each other on a contraption of red tubes. But who knows if mine is there too. I hear the noise of the showers. They are fully open and the water is gushing and swirling, but there is something dirty that does not flow. First I have to find my suitcase, although there is no place in the showers to put it. The people who entered are no longer there. I will wait here, see if anyone comes by who can tell me how to get back. Or see if they want to guide me.
Victoria Chang is a poet whose new book of poems is "Trees Testify to Everything" (Copper Canyon Press, 2022) . Her fifth poetry book, "Obit" (2020), was named a New York Times Notable Book and a Time Must-Read. She lives in Los Angeles and teaches at the M.F.A. from the University of Antioch. program. Coral Bracho is the author of numerous collections of poetry, including "Firefly Under the Tongue" (New Dire...
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