by Émilie Galindo
we felt geography’s ghosts bring up the camphor contours of our former selves
Palm Reading: for Patti Smith
In Book of Days she greets us with her hand / evoking the literally liminal like those hand-shaped door knockers—although hers is palm-facing so less on the fence / or the metaphorically & metaphysically liminal space straddled by both writers & readers / book like a bridle in hand / only there her hand is out-on-a-limb / lines visible for all to read / lines like seams / spilling riddle-cloudy secrets.
The Paradox of Camphor Phantoms
We were visiting old haunts / where we’d left our Tipp-Ex & typo-storied teen years / walking / we felt geography’s ghosts bring up the camphor contours of our former selves / they rattled inside our adult bodies / tangy in texture & glazed / the very veil or varnish on our identities.
© Émilie Galindo
Émilie Galindo (she/her) is a Phoebe kind of person. She’s also a Dylanologist and counterculture sixties history buff, she tends to dip my quill in the quite diverse, if cabalistic, cultural well of that time period. If that’s also your jam (or somehow your bread and butter), check out her debut novella Acid Taste: Excavating the Homesick Blues.
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