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About this poet

Carolina Ebeid is the author of You Ask Me to Talk About the Interior (Noemi Press, 2016). She is pursuing a PhD in creative writing at the University of Denver and edits poetry at The Rumpus. She lives in Denver.

Punctum / Metaphor

Love remains a kind of present tense. This is how we describe the scenes in photographs—as though the actions in them were still happening. My father is throwing a rock in this picture. My father keeps lions in his chest & they rip apart a gazelle in this picture.

A man throwing a rock; the image holds an old grammar. This rock has yet to leave the hand, to measure the horizontal span from A to B. Nor has it completed the vertical distance from first line to last line, riding a tangle of syntax. The photograph captures a skirmish in the West Bank town of Nablus; the man hurling the rock is my father insofar as Juliet is the sun.

From You Ask Me to Talk About the Interior. Copyright © 2016 by Carolina Ebeid. Used with the permission of the author.

From You Ask Me to Talk About the Interior. Copyright © 2016 by Carolina Ebeid. Used with the permission of the author.

Carolina Ebeid

Carolina Ebeid

Carolina Ebeid is the author of You Ask Me to Talk About the Interior (Noemi Press, 2016).

by this poet

poem
The scroll is a shape that keeps returning. It’s old and circular. It contains a vertical nature (this is why we use the electronic verb to scroll, which is how you may be reading this). The scroll corresponds to the hermeneutical act of reading and writing. In the legend of Saint Romanos the Melodious, we are
poem
chatter around town will be of blindness  

all ghosts will be Russian ghosts at parties 


				                           always the law here is to sing, 
                                                                believe me 

				                           no thought-bubble tarries
poem
The lord doctor sits on the other side 
of health from me. It’s a wall come between
flat & white & 
spackled in places—   
		
I was a student of ELOQUENCE.
I’d shape my mouth into a fountain 
& out the names cascaded in June—
		
My brain is described in slow sentences 
in similes like: grapefruit,