by Kimberly Lyons*
As the red magnetic effigy debris
of a flashlight x-ray burns on through
any stiff distillation of surface,
when the filament’s only orientation
washes or sheds itself there
on the ragged glare’s relinquishment
it is only the straps
that fall, is only
the objects in proximity
But I discern a current
in the disarray:
the dark powder imprints
of an alphabetic lipstick
is a trace of that
evades the primary
wires or secondary threads
that I, thinking, can’t make.
Like the fluid flag of a hand’s waves
hovering, a cup or an axis can hold
motion without manifestation.
*Process Note: Despite the potentially deceptive title, this poem is the “original” work of the poet Travis Macdonald. It was composed by rearranging the words of Kimberly Lyons’s poem “Evidence” (from Rough) into an entirely new order and form.