Chance, Chant, Chain

posted Mar 1, 2011

The stroke and stress of what came before us
is all boast; the sacred text of a sage's naked guilt,
a sheaf of scripture intended to trick. We roll the
moveable frame back again and again, each scene
unfolding like pasture or passage, saying chance,
chant, chain. We are roped in afresh and furthermore,
we admire confinement, to recline against one's wall
is to rest. We recall that memory is malleable, but
overlook it to admire the approach of the unfamiliar
branded with our specific stamp of discretion.
I love you, we say. I've never felt this way before.

Jennifer Borges Foster is a poet, bookmaker, and the editor of Filter, a hand bound limited edition literary journal. She is the recent recipient of grants from Art Patch, 4Culture, and the Seattle Mayor's Office of Arts and Cultural Affairs, and was short-listed for The Stranger's 2007 Genius Award in literature. Her poems have appeared in The Beloit Poetry Journal, Prairie Schooner, ZYZZYVA, and other journals.

Foster’s poem “What does the grave say?” also appears in this issue.