Proof that we live in a broken world and a broken world is unlivable.
Proof that the carrot turns into the stick and vice versa. Proof that that seems normal, self-sufficient.
Proof that we sometimes destroy things that are broken and can’t be
fixed and sometimes fix things because to live with them broken is
Proof that we switch roles, sometimes to destroy things that are
broken and can’t be fixed and sometimes to live with things that are
broken because to fix them would be unthinkable
Proof that we learn to live with the unthinkable.
Rectangles in tangerine, orange and persimmon fall into place, take
our names, simulate full hands. Proof that having full hands leaves
no time for questions.
Proof that we can’t help grabbing the sharp end, even when all the
warnings are there.
Proof that we find the hot water, the hot water finds us.
Proof in the tongue of ruin and burn. Fluent in the language of minus.
The trees have fallen and the forest comes apart.
Proof then by reading it on paper. Proof in unmarked bills. Line by
Line our eyes fill up with witness: Morning as clear as glass.
Can stones be far behind?
From Jump the Clock: New and Selected Poems (Nightboat Books, 2020). Copyright © 2020 by Erica Hunt. Used with the permission of the poet.