The Characteristic Frequency of Feedback Loops
Lauren Camp
Sweat waltzes the top of his head and I love it!
On the main floor, thirty wheelchairs blunt a sequence of slow escapes
A retired podiatrist is bent left in a black bicycle helmet and keeps circling (fart fart)
All of this happens on white linoleum, all the shuffling
Into eternity and the salacious sun
The day is ripped open and soft
Dad scoops his soup with a fork, finds carrots, a crown
How can there be so much to chew and slurp
On this day margarine was patented, made first from beef fat and colored yellow
To seem rich with flavor but I prefer butter
I am in Florida where it is moody July, all reason emptied to a melting point
My father has gained weight and is bigger and does not exist, I mean
Crows trot out from leaves with their ordinary violence and it is impossible
To carry on a conversation in this room
My father opens his hand his mouth
Looks at the light in his hand
I go on, welcoming the last thing or next thing
What if this work is limitless?
This is the best moment, or so we say as the window glass trembles
With its own echo and simply disappears
Lauren Camp is the Poet Laureate of New Mexico and author of five books, most recently Took House (Tupelo Press). Two new books—Worn Smooth Between Devourings (NYQ Books) and An Eye in Each Square (River River Books)—are forthcoming in 2023. Honors include a Dorset Prize and finalist citations for the Arab American Book Award and Adrienne Rich Award for Poetry. Her poems have appeared in Kenyon Review, Prairie Schooner, Massachusetts Review and Poet Lore, and her work has been translated into Mandarin, Turkish, Spanish, and Arabic. www.laurencamp.com