Kate Puxley, Cambré, 2018
Charcoal on paper
2 x 1.27 m
With this, I will leave you three sick
genes splayed like fish, my epigenetic
elegies. I offer you this hollow
apology: forgive my low cortisol,
choked redbird, my crooked spine,
the rose-beaded necklace carved from
an ivory tusk. We both inherit
the spoils and shame of war,
your great-grandmother’s pale green irises,
her pearl engagement ring
dulled by dish soap
one more reason she did not surrender.
Your father, he will leave you
A marble chess board, a shotgun
with a rusted barrel, a roman nose,
a blank spot on your family tree,
a library of songs hummed perfectly
I offer you a collection of glass birds
a cracked watch I could call
“amulets against nothing,”
bejewelled wounds
instead of what they are—
weak promises I hope to break
you from this line of pain, to give
you from my body
something whole
from the family