Still Life with Eel Grass, Sand

By BRANDI KATHERINE HERRERA

setting sun, splayed

elegant

as fresh catch—

point of view, standing figure:

 

high-tide, haystack.

 

waves intermittent flare

echoes bonfire,

salmon—

 

cap, boots, sweater.

 

distance plummets,

ebbs

toward the water.

 

point of view, rückenfigur:

 

sea-kelp, razor-clam.

 

unhurried,

a male figure

studies

 

parallax, point a:

 

sun reflects water,

recedes

water mirrors sun.

 

separately, figures

fear

their solitary—

 

dogs bark, chase

distance—

waves and transparencies.

 

parallax, point b:

 

sand envelopes shell,

swallows

shell settles on sand.

 

figures move in,

gulls move

out.

 

obscured

direct positives,

exposed.

 

kettle, kindling.

 

i make photographs,

cook

in silence.

 

he sits

by the windows

throwing

lamp-light, glances.

 

 

 

Brandi Katherine Herrera holds a Master of Fine Arts in Writing from Pacific University, and is the author of the chapbook “the specificity of early spring shadows” (Bedouin Books, 2013). 

Photo by author

Still Life with Eel Grass, Sand

Related Posts

Dispatches from Mullai Nilam, Marutha Nilam, and Neithal Nilam

VIJAYALAKSHMI
There is fire everywhere, / both inside and outside. / Unaware of the intensity of the fire, / they maintain silence / like the serenity of a corpse. / From the burning fire / bursts out a waterfall tainted in red. / All over the shores have bloomed / the flaming lilies of motherhood.

When I Go to Chicago

SHELLEY STENHOUSE
When I Go to Chicago, things break. The last time, on the last day, the pipes in the kitchen burst and flooded my parents’ blonde wood floor. When I’m up in that 87th floor apartment, I look at the sky’s blank expression. I keep the little square office window open for the sliver of nature.

Black and white image of a bird with a long neck

Dispatch from Marutha Nilam

SAKTHI ARULANANDHAM
With the swiftness and dexterity / of a hawk that pounces upon a chicken / and takes it by force, / the bird craves / snapping up a vast terrain / with its powerful, sharp beak / and flying away with it. // When that turns out to be impossible, / in the heat of its great big sigh, / all the rivers dry up.