See Under:
See Under:
by Joanna Rawson
There’s a word for a beggar who fakes being blind.
Another for amnesia about all events underwater.
For the exact center of gravity in a skyscraper.
Without motive, a bullet whittled from ice
utters murder into a toddler’s chest.
The sun makes a pool of water around her body
that will evaporate by noon, a shadow
advertising the precise time of death.
There’s a word for a cannon fired from a camel’s back.
Another for a rain gauge fueled by the sun.
For anything that lasts all night.
The rumor of a violent stormfront
keeps arriving,
but somewhere else.
I like the implication of the title, ‘See Under’, presumably taken from search engine speak, inciting one to go beyond the fascade of the book’s cover or first impression. What causes things to be the way they are? “There is a word for …”–love that! Nice literary vehicle for posing epiphanic ideas to the reader–all seemingly bizarre descriptions for words we might not have known even existed. What does that tell us? We are swimming in a great big party pool the expanse of which may not be fathomable. But collectively as the human race we try and it makes us seem like ignorant ants floating and drifting where the tide may take us. How can we truly know it all–how do we know what is important enough until it’s too late?
“Without motive, a bullet whittled from ice
utters murder into a toddler’s chest.” –this line clenched me and told me something about the nature of the world and the unfairness of it all–the brutality. It’s mystical and scary. Indeed, there is an air of impending gloom invoked in so many of the images given in this piece. Are we really free if we are not free of fear and worry? What is the purpose of life and our purpose in this world anyway? Captivating poem, Joanna, thanks for sharing!