Translator’s Confession, 3 a.m.
By Idra Novey
Dear C, I dropped
your sentence in hot water.
I talked to the boil. I said Here
is my thumb for you to burn.
Here is the soft heart
of my hand and my arm and
the nape of my wreck.
I said vapor, just take me.
I'm done burning
with these pages. Being invisible
doesn't mean a person
won’t blister, doesn't mean
the blisters won't fill
with pockets of water
or when lanced the rawest flesh
won’t emerge. First the word
then the murky leak
begins -- what another mind
may scrape against
but never skin.
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Know what I can no longer do? Multitask! I am having three conversations (two online, one with Adam's friend, and one with hubby) and I can't remember anything I did earlier in the day, besides see bunnies and deer while out walking and feel sad about Joan Rivers. Shutterfly sent me a coupon for a free photo book, so since I just took all those pics on our beach trip, I spent a lot of time working on that and got behind on everything again!
But it is football season, which means that Monday and some Sunday and Thursday nights, I will have to negotiate if I want to watch something other than football! At least the Orioles won! We were at Fort Raleigh on Roanoke Island on Virginia Dare's birthday, where the National Park Service was celebrating with activities honoring both the English and Native American heritage of the region, so here are some photos of the festivities:
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