Rebecca Givens
Battery
The Oracle has come and gone, parceled
away to more interesting stories.
In his absence, patients are monitored
for signs of progress.
Patient S. has her test for reading.
One word per card, she’s asked:
What does this say?
Below are the written words and her responses:
For Boy |
S. reads Bottle |
Assess it well: in the mind of this woman,
how did one word cross another,
become a shade, a different animal?
More training in reading will be needed,
the clinician writes, to bring her utterances
under voluntary control.
Portrait of S.
The left side of her brain was affected;
she called the doctor and the doctor said, No more monkeys
jumping on the train.
The train of what, she thought, of dairy, of thought itself?
There are countries where only farms exist, where the unweeded
gardens fill with ladybugs. Whole areas
you could drive past, seeing
fields as clear bubbles without sound.
No one has words here, just noises; their voices shiver and rock.
The dog’s asleep, the cat continues moaning,
and all the plants settle in their spines.
The green book of their flowering opens,
leaves laid out in sets of two and three.
What about the veins, they must be trouble?
What about the origami birds?
Rebecca Givens has new work published or forthcoming in The Adirondack Review, The Cincinnati Review, The Cortland Review, Many Mountains Moving, and Verse Daily. She currently lives in Boston and teaches at Grub Street. contact contact
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