of course there is no key
of course there is no door at most a folded book a glass of vin a table top if only a train passing by not these petri dishes culturing the endless any light within the body bare foot towel draped around the head the recipe for surface the gold of how zinc plates images into prints dug deep like a life more like dream who prays so specifically but the acid bath plate and mask zinc filings as if an image inked deep and black in the wounds of the plate could make the hardening rejections less resin more amnesia but the scar of the heart carries a shape emerald earrings stolen so color emerald emboldens to make an image of what loss feels face obscured through shame and fontanels of narcissus latticed in the past a green of thyme and moss break bread against concrete steps all the sorries of front porch apologies of distance
—Bobbi Lurie, Albuquerque, NM
