January 30, 2020

Ekphrastic Challenge, December 2019: Editor’s Choice

 

photo of letters left in a snowy tree

Image: “Bound” by Natalie Seabolt. “Seeking Purpose” was written by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, December 2019, and selected as the Editor’s Choice.

[download: PDF / JPG]

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Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

SEEKING PURPOSE

The golden opportunity you are seeking is in yourself. It is not in your environment; it is not in luck or chance, or the help of others; it is in yourself alone.
—Orison Swett Marden

There were no letters tucked in the trees today,
no handwritten notes tied with red string.
No epistles, no missives, no communiques.

Some days, a woman wishes the world
would be more direct, more intimate, would just tell her
her purpose, would spell it out in a language she knows.

Include sketches, clear directives. Write her name
on the envelopes so there can be no mistake.
Leave the letters in a place she will find them.

But no. Today, the only message in the trees
is snow. She tries to make meaning of it.
Laughs at the impulse. Reminds herself, Snow is snow.

Isn’t it like her to look for meaning?
Next thing you know, she’ll be looking
for a message in the clouds. In rivers. In books.

from Ekphrastic Challenge
December 2019, Editor’s Choice

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Comment from the editor, Timothy Green: “Maybe it’s that the photograph is so straightforward, but turning it into an image of what isn’t there was a brilliant choice that pushes the original content even further. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the universe really did send us messages this clear? But of course it doesn’t, a truth that now feels oddly empowering, thanks to the subtle tone of the poem. Let’s go out and make some meaning of our own.”

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January 23, 2020

Ekphrastic Challenge, December 2019: Artist’s Choice

 

photo of letters left in a snowy tree

Image: “Bound” by Natalie Seabolt. “Greetings Unanswered” was written by Joshua Martin for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, December 2019, and selected as the Artist’s Choice.

[download: PDF / JPG]

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Joshua Martin

GREETINGS UNANSWERED

That December of salt, there were letters
from loan and electric companies,
letters from clothing stores praising
their cottons as if pea coats could turn
lives around, letters from my landlord
typed in that font that looks half-human
with its orchestrated imperfections, that read
Happy Holidays with the insincerity
of Caesar before the Senate, letters I didn’t open
because they were addressed to someone else
who had woken once in the same bedroom at 2 AM
with the same unshakable thirst,
the same knotted throat, letters that urged
action on behalf of some politician
who, pending a donation, could save us all.
There were letters that slept uneasy on my table
like hungry children on pullout couches,
letters that screamed like prisoners tortured
by open windows, letters containing
cards of families I couldn’t remember—
someone’s son looking past me, smiling,
Seasons Greetings inked above the photograph
like a sign outside that hospice in Nitro
where my grandfather died after a lifetime
of chemical plants and Wednesdays numb
in West Virginia. Though his letters burned
my palm like sulfuric acid, I never opened them
out of fear they’d be the last I’d read
of his chicken scratch laid down
like a seed with his one good hand,
so I’d bundle his letters and forget them
in boxes like leaves hanging on
the one holly left in the meadow
I never returned to, the wind
like a blunt letter knife, powerless
to do anything but save them.

from Ekphrastic Challenge
December 2019, Artist’s Choice

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Comment from the artist, Natalie Seabolt: “I chose ‘Greetings Unanswered’ because it speaks to a past that is worn and aged, a past that craves to be remembered, a past that has become letters with a hunger all their own. The poem’s language is hungry and wary of how past and present can switch places. The letters of the poem feel kin to those in my photograph—letters that exist in a dimension of urgency, lingering around the speaker’s presence whispering of their importance, but lost to those to whom they were delivered.”

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December 31, 2019

Ekphrastic Challenge, November 2019: Editor’s Choice

 

black and white photo of boy walking dog on a street

Image: “Dog Walking” by Alice Pettway. “A Caricature” was written by Bola Opaleke for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, November 2019, and selected as the Editor’s Choice. (PDF / JPG)

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Bola Opaleke

A CARICATURE

Where I came from,
the street is another religion

& my feet know
all its worship songs
by heart. It effuses a silence that arouses

the slumbering houses;
make me watch their breasts as they rise

& fall. My moment
of peace & tranquility is
when I can look the most human

behind the chromatic harmony
of car honks. Am I not a common sight, marveled

at colors; yellow grass, green trees,
red flowers? I know whatever is not black
or white begs another name. & before I got pollinated

inside this religion, I developed a new body
which blinks only once a day like the streetlamp

of a graveyard. Surrounded
by shadows, I am not as lonely as people
think. I have a skeleton dog lost to the street as I.

from Ekphrastic Challenge
November 2019, Editor’s Choice

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Comment from the editor, Timothy Green: “The power of this poem lives within the title that undercuts it. As I read, I get lost in this idea of the street as a religion. I’m lulled by the blinking streetlamp in a graveyard and forget that what I’m lulled by is only a caricature—and that was always the tension within the photograph: that interplay between the scene and our interpretation of it. This is a poem with several layers of meaning, about the scene, about ourselves as viewers, and about the power of narrative to cloud our thinking.”

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December 26, 2019

Ekphrastic Challenge, November 2019: Artist’s Choice

 

black and white photo of boy walking dog on a street

Image: “Dog Walking” by Alice Pettway. “The Anatomy of Endings” was written by Anoushka Subbaiah for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, November 2019, and selected as the Artist’s Choice.

[download: PDF / JPG]

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Anoushka Subbaiah

THE ANATOMY OF ENDINGS

Even tender mornings are labor here,
something to be fought for. Light must erode
itself through a membrane of smog, thick
and silent as blood. The newspaper once called
this sheet of pollution soup and I imagined
us all broiled and begging in a great vat of the city,
our tongues shrinking into white onions and vermicelli.
Still, in the sharp glaze of summer, we will learn
to stand outside ourselves. To measure distance
with past-tenses: this was once the video rental store,
some long-haired banyan trees, a boy. My country
is dressed as a body-sized nothing. Can one know
crevices, interludes, before any language or name?
The dark eyes of potholes. Urine-streaked alleys.
I’ve forgiven the stench, the sting of it all—
it as much mine as anyone else’s. Stray dogs whip
like ribbed arrows through metal carcasses, make feasts
from boiled peanuts wrapped in damp tissue.
We’ve all fed ourselves with the spill of something
and called it enough. Yesterday it was the smoke
I rinsed out from my hair. Tomorrow it will be a stranger
with a face like an oil lamp—so burnished and flickering
that I’ll mistake him for a fallen sun. It’s a dull hurt,
to keep walking against such ordinary beauty. But
there are sleepless borders to outrun, stubs of grief
to be plucked from the dirt. My country is dressed
as a tumor of cement and glass, multiplying lifelessly.
All you can count on is the low whisper of passing limbs,
fraught with warning: remember, these scaffoldings were planted
on someone’s chest.

from Ekphrastic Challenge
November 2019, Artist’s Choice

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Comment from the artist, Alice Pettway: “‘The Anatomy of Endings’ doesn’t seek to duplicate the photo but instead builds its own city of imperfections: a dog shot through a metal carcass, a stranger with an oil-lamp face, stubs of grief plucked from dirt. The poem captures the unease of street photography, which is so often the ‘dull hurt’ of ‘walking against such ordinary beauty.’”

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November 28, 2019

Ekphrastic Challenge, October 2019: Editor’s Choice

 

portrait of figure drawn in a mess of colorful lines

Image: “Brainyo” by Dana St. Mary. “After the Extinction” was written by Susan Carroll Jewell for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, October 2019, and selected as the Editor’s Choice.

[download: PDF / JPG]

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Susan Carroll Jewell

AFTER THE EXTINCTION

And when you pass,
an unfamiliar drip and splash
globule in space, know

that we are your arrogant
twin, newly cosmic and drifting
through the galaxies, vibrating

strings of collective energy blown
into the heavens from Earth,
remnant strands of humanness

formed from the streams of birthday
leftovers and nests of ribbons
unboxed. A face on a backdrop

of starlight declares who we were,
closed lips and a pointless nose,
a hollow ear and open eyes startled

not at the speed of light but of extinction.
Our brain still circles with inescapable
science, our art left behind, the Gothic

glass and Pollack paint of a wasted
culture. And if you see these colored
cords wiggling like conceited wires

through the universe, know that they
hold badges of mistakes, a neck
that connects to nothing but a lanyard

with a label—Hello, My Name Is
like a poet grasping for a last line,
a saving grace.

from Ekphrastic Challenge
October 2019, Editor’s Choice

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Comment from the editor, Timothy Green: “As you might imagine, the entries this month ranged from dark to disturbing, as poets wrestled with what must be described as a portrait of cosmic madness. Susan Carroll Jewell took that task the farthest, imagining a feature in which we only exist as the echo of our emptiness. It’s a poem rich with images, each strong line more haunting than the last.”

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November 21, 2019

Ekphrastic Challenge, October 2019: Artist’s Choice

 

portrait of figure drawn in a mess of colorful lines

Image: “Brainyo” by Dana St. Mary. “The Metamorphosis of Gregor Samsa and My Grandpa” was written by Jaime Mera for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, October 2019, and selected as the Artist’s Choice.

[download: PDF / JPG]

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Jaime Mera

THE METAMORPHOSIS OF GREGOR SAMSA AND MY GRANDPA

Kafka, what were Gregor Samsa’s
unruhigen Träumen—
restless dreams?
I’ve dreamed of two, tiny snakes
with skin
shimmering silver
like a sardine.
Flying out of an oak,
they wrap around my wrists.
In another, I’ve dreamed
of my grandpa
whose torso split in two;
insides pink like a spiral ham.
Dreams dissolve
like a copy
of a copy of a copy.
Kafka, what were Gregor’s restless memories?
I remember my grandpa,
who died nine years ago,
carving the Christmas ham,
saying to my mom,
“You’re a nothing.”
He mistook
my sandalwood mala beads
for a subhar
and asked me if I enjoyed
killing people.
His brain processed information
like colors defying the color wheel—
red and blue makes green.
Last night, I dreamed
I was on an airplane with my cousin.
I no longer knew
his name
and I hid under the seat.
I awoke as myself.
Kafka, please transform me
into an ungeheures Ungeziefer—
tremendous vermin.
As Gregor awakes
from his restless dreams
he knows
yellow and blue makes green.

from Ekphrastic Challenge
October 2019, Artist’s Choice

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Comment from the artist, Dana St. Mary: “This is a near perfect poem. I can read it multiple times and get more each time. Kafka helped form me as a young reader, so this poem spoke to me especially. It is simply horrific in the finest way. A good reflection of the madness in my picture.”

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October 24, 2019

Ekphrastic Challenge, September 2019: Artist’s Choice

 

Black and white photo of a tattered suitcase in a burned out building

Image: “Loss for Words” by Asher ReTech. “Artifacts from the Buffalo Trunk Mfg. Co. (Defunct)” was written by Rachel Welton for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, September 2019, and selected as the Artist’s Choice.

[download: PDF / JPG]

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Rachel Welton

ARTIFACTS FROM THE BUFFALO TRUNK MFG. CO. (DEFUNCT)

When my grandmother learned
I was sewing for a living,
she took down a suitcase
from the garage rafters and
make me poke my fingers
into its crowded corners
to feel the still-fine stitching.
Her father, she said, sewed linings for luggage
until the dust of a thousand snipped
threads settled in his lungs
and choked him out of the shop.
He gave each child a suitcase and packed
them off to a stranger’s farm
as though sewing was tuberculosis
in the tenement air: catching.

I looked up the company that killed him.
Turns out they did the fabric
linings for caskets, too.

Now, in my dark studio, breathing in lint
as feather-fine as all the Polish words
my grandmother forgot, I see
him weigh his last paycheck’s dollars
and debate: a coffin
just long enough to lie down in
or six small suitcases?
The first a kind of luggage
for the children to bury grief in,
the second, luggage to carry
old grief into new houses.

from Ekphrastic Challenge
September 2019, Artist’s Choice

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Comment from the artist, Asher ReTech: “I think endings are as important as the beginnings. How a thing closes, how an event is finalised, how we say goodbye, is just as critical as how it all began. I like to explore abandoned places because they are full of stories, the last bastion of final notes. The image of carrying grief with you to a new place, for me, was melancholy without being maudlin. If anything this is admitting the truth of what we all do. We carry bits of bad memories attached to things we should have long since discarded. I was struck by how many poems used the suitcase as metaphor for immigration, while poignant and well written, they did not strike the same chord for me as “Artifacts”. They were emotionally strong but my personal bias certainly kept me closer to this one. Very few poems had the actual context of the suitcase, not that I expected them to. But it was interesting to see how others saw this moment versus the actual location and what I found. One poem spoke of a house fire and the collapse of the building, which was eerily accurate. In the end, however, after reading them all several times, I kept coming back to the final lines of ‘Artifacts’ and I loved them. There is a real sense of connection with the past. It’s an honest embrace of the good and bad. I look to the old places and things seeking that connection too. There’s a grace in holding onto your personal context and a dignity in not hiding from sadness that sometimes comes from that.”

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