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      November 27, 2010Love Hurts, San Jose 1975Christine Hamm

      in the photo
      the man is sprawled
      a Chinese ideogram
      spelling knife or beauty
      sadness or forgiveness
      potato or tongue

       

      blood has splashed and run
      down the grey wastebasket

       

      there is a golden cast
      to the scene
      the daisies on the yellow
      kitchen wall the ochre
      dishwasher door

       

      one hand is curled near
      his turned away face
      a cheek the delicate pink
      of a girl’s blush when she
      is caught at her first lie

       

      his shoes are black, cheap
      embarrassing

       

      the blood a triangle
      spread over his stomach
      like a bandanna folded
      across his lap to hold
      a tuna fish or roast beef
      sandwich on a picnic table

       

      the knife an afterthought
      bright shadow
      insubstantial smear
      on a white t-shirt scrawled
      with slogans
      half words hidden
      in the folds

      from #23 - Summer 2005

      Christine Hamm

      “I have been a writer since kindergarten, when I wrote illustrated tales of shapeless purple monsters eating everyone and then crying. My themes haven’t changed much since then. I came to poetry after writing fiction for many years. I eventually came to dislike the awkwardness of ‘plots’ and how false they seemed. Poetry seems to claim a lot less than fiction, and question more and in a way, leave more space in the universe. I read once in a Zen magazine that poetry is about ‘the space around it’ the white page between line breaks, the gap between the poem and the bottom of the page and I think my writing tries to make peace with the space, use it in a way that gives the reader an opportunity to pause and make their own way, whatever that means.”