Today's poem is by Angie Estes
Dark Spots
In the late nineteenth century, some photographers
claimed not only to capture images
of loved ones from beyondthe grave but to be able to photograph memories
of the deceased, their auras still glowing
around the bereaved,as if to capture light reflected off a body could preserve
that body over time, as Beatrice explains
the presence of the darkspots on the moon to Dante in Paradiso: how
the brightness of a celestial body
reveals the angelicgladness that quickens the body, letizia that shines as joy
shines through an eye. Visit Fort
CourageTake Picturesof the Past, the billboards across Arizona advised,
and at the base of the mountain in
New Mexico, a note tapedto the gasoline pump read, Hold tight to your moneythe wind
will carry it away. In the snapshot of
my grandmother in hercasket, wearing the Elizabethan collar and permed
curls she never wore, my mother
gazes through herto a planet she always knew existed but which, without
the darkness, she could never see
before. They callsome bruises shiners like the violet stars of the Rose of Sharon
that come out in the morning and shine
all day in their leaf-blackshade, shade carved into the yard like fish scales covering
the sarcophagus in Sant’Apollinare in
Classe near Ravennaor the stiff, veined hands of the sycamore stretched wide
in applause, the Italian gesture
of mourning.
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Copyright © 2013 Angie Estes All rights reserved
from Enchantée
Oberlin College Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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