Reliable Equation
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An engine rumbles in the brain and is poorcompared to wind or water on the skin.
The heart sets itself with unscheduled thoughts.No—it is beset with their bright burning.
What remains: scorched boards, smoldering bricks.The rubble tears at the tenderness there.
I might smell the leafy earth blood beatingwhile I attempt to decipher the cold moon.
God's handprint not evident on either one.The greatest mystery? Fate? A tragedy?
Consult the wise ones, disregard them, too.I wake up beaten, breathing, conceding.
To think without proof. To feel with certainty.The wound ever open and warmed by the sun. [End Page 263]
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Reflection
[End Page 264]
Jennifer Wallace teaches at the Maryland Institute College of Art in Baltimore, MD. She is a poetry editor at The Cortland Review. Her chapbook, Minor Heaven, appears in Desire Path (Toadlily Press, 2005). Her poems, essays and photographs have appeared in artists' books, exhibition catalogs, galleries, museums, anthologies and literary journals. CityLit Press published her new book of poems and photographs, It Can be Solved by Walking (2012). jwallace13@verizon.net
