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September 2, 2010The Arsenal Building, Central ParkNew York, NYFrom the Academy Audio Archive

The Death of Ignatz

Monica Youn

 

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Monica Youn

by this poet

poem

 

Click the icon above to listen to this audio poem.

poem
When you have left me
the sky drains of color

like the skin
of a tightening fist.

The sun commences
its gold prowl

batting at tinsel streamers
on the electric fan.

Crouching I hide
in the coolness I stole

from the brass rods 
of your bed.
poem

To section off
is to intensify,

to deaden.
Some surfaces

cannot be salvaged.
Leave them

to lose function,
to persist only

as armature,
holding in place

those radiant
squares

of sensation—
the body a dichotomy