from Motions Becoming Movements
Joel Chace
For hours, she’s been
ripping paper. One page
of a letter. A
page that keeps widening
on one side even
as it mends that
tear she’s already made,
on the other. Some
nasty, impossible joke. The
letter itself — vile, inconceivable.
Its original accusations, noxious
enough: aggressive, treacherous, ungodly.
Now — with the missive
lengthening, as well — recriminations
metastasize: satanic, putrid, incurable.
The past has bubbles,
and these words are
of them.
Hanging: suspended falling. Suspended
fall: near ceiling; midway
down; even nearly touching
floor. Last thing he
sees: oil painting, blues
and greens, on the
opposite wall. Once he
suspends his dying fall,
that room empties, and
empties its time.
Betrayal’s a motion, too.
Pelvis or pistol moving
forward. Desire or hatred.
Not always does the
betrayed see it coming.
This time, the text
pings in as she
drives to work. I’m
getting my stuff out
today. Have met another
woman. Followed by a
photo: she has jet
black hair, green eyes.
This time, the slug
tears through his brain,
back to front. His
face smashes down into
a plate of birthday
cake. These betrayers wear
white.
Joel Chace has published work in print and electronic magazines such as Lana Turner, Survision, ē·rā/tiō, Otoliths, Word For/Word, Golden Handcuffs Review, New American Writing, and The Brooklyn Rail. Underrated Provinces is recently out from MadHat Books. Bone Chapel is coming out soon from Chax. For more than forty years, Chace was a working jazz pianist. He is an NEH Fellow.