Your brain is made of glass
Gail Wronsky
Mine is full of tiny hummingbirds with silk-thin wings.
Why are we together? It could be because my
left arm is made of glass too, or because
when we walk about barefoot over grass, we
both feel the ghosts of the underworld
licking the soles of our feet. Some days you glimmer
in cold morning light as if coated with the powdery-
dry remnants of soft multi-syllabic whisperings. Other
days your transparency is as blinding as the snow fields
on which arctic insects write their lives.
Gail Wronsky is the author of eight books of poetry, three coauthored collections of experimental poetry, and two books of translations of the poetry of Argentinean poet Alicia Partnoy.Her newest book is a chapbook of poems called Some Disenfranchised Evening, winner of the Swan Scythe Chapbook Prize.
Back to Table of Contents for Translation and Transition