The Couple

By KC TROMMER

 

Louise Bourgeois, MASS MoCA

Inside the bounded mercury,
we keep going. All circuits that close
make serpents of us, constrict
and envelop every tender corner until
         only a small portion
is distinct, our feet dangling like the end of a
sentence. We suspend ourselves
in a room full of light but take none in.

Though we might call it love,
         it’s not. It’s only the old narratives
winding through us, moving their casings
over us until we are a closed circuit of knowing.

What I want more than company
is air. Well, perhaps to be held lightly,
         
the faint feeling of you at my waist
as I turn open. But first, the task is to
command the molecules to take in more,
to occupy the sealed
space. There is no straight line to this
         evolution, no greater alchemy
         than adding oxygen, no end

 

 

KC Trommer is the author of the debut poetry collection We Call Them Beautiful and the chapbook The Hasp Tongue. She is the founder of the collaborative audio project QUEENSBOUND and assistant director of communications at NYU Gallatin. She lives in Jackson Heights, Queens, with her son.

[Purchase Issue 20 here.]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

The Couple

Related Posts

Caribbean picture

Self-Portrait in The Caribbean

PAOLA ASSAD BARBARINO
Sometimes I am emboldened, / I decide to stand in the people’s balcony / I decide it is Maundy Thursday I decide to place a priest behind me that can speak to the people behind / my back / I decide to put out the fire and light my throat / scream

Feltspade

ELIAS SADAQ
I serve out my conscription / sleep in a bunk bed / for four cold months / in the engineer regiment at Skive Garrison / in a room with three other men / I fuck the colonel / the only sign that time is passing / is a pile of snow outside the window / that grows smaller

Book cover of Fifty Mothers

Mother is a Kind of Holding: Jenny Qi interviews Preeti Vangani

PREETI VANGANI
With vignettes, I could plumb its narrative arc to become a force propelling the book forward. It also felt haunting yet warm that the mothers kept reappearing throughout the life of this grief. That repetition created a chorus of voices that angers and despairs, yet cradles the speaker.