“I wrote this poem during my first time abroad for the Amy Lowell Traveling Poetry Scholarship. Rilke’s words acted as the metallic snap from the spring-loaded lever inside the pinball machine in my mind, which launched the ball of my poem out of my body with a lyrical whoosh. Hence the long lines rushing and ricocheting in a paratactic, punchy rhythm. I wanted to capture the wild and wonderful strangeness of traveling in a new country coupled with the fugue state of being very sick and vulnerable. I believe language and love can fail us just as much as they can save us.” 
—Tiana Clark