Venus Anadyomene

posted Jan 19, 2016

Tell me, Herr Titian,
what should I prefer,

light as emanation,
or emanation as light?

X, gamma, ultraviolet,
infrared, radio, and visible:

like you, my reason for
existence is motiveless,

kinetic force
hauling my

slackened frame
from bed each morning.

Instead of doctors, I'm given
a construction crew or two.

I see you through the mist,
as if shrouded in cellophane.

O, darling packaged mass
of curdled meat brains . . .

If only we were all able
to die as gracefully—

L'Arc de Ciel, from scream
to scream—as you.

Virginia Konchan is the author of Vox Populi, and a collection of short stories, Anatomical Gift (forthcoming, Noctuary Press), Virginia Konchan's poems have appeared in The New Yorker, Best New Poets, The Believer, The New Republic, and Verse. Co-founder of Matter, a journal of poetry and political commentary, she lives in Montreal.

We’ve published two more poems by Konchan: “Diamond Sutra” and “Cemetery Montparnasse.”