by Ellen Peckham
This Sunday morning
given to translations
I find myself in tears
reading a poem of my own
but experienced afresh in Spanish.
It recounts elements of your death
that having, I thought, at last assimilated
I can speak aloud in English. But find,
memory resurrected, an effigy
newly delivered.
The force of words,
music and cadence,
reintroduce emotion in unfamiliar context.
Pain, yes. But not unwelcome.
Ellen Peckham has read, published and exhibited in the U.S., Europe and Latin America. She frequently uses multiple art forms in a single work. Her archives are collected at the Harry Ransom Center for Humanities in Austin, TX, and a diverse representation of her portfolio, books, videos of some appearances and of her work space, as well as flip books of recent publications, are available at www.ellenpeckham.com.