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.
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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.