A heart, a brain, a pair of lungs

created by Lisa Solomon ~ doily body : brain, 2006, colored pencil and embroidery on duralar, 12 x 9 inches

It is the colour of the inside of
an eyelid
when eyes are closed
and lights are loud,
this knot of red that shifts left
against
careful circling ribs.

It is an uneven fist that opens and closes
and opens and closes,
two questions,
two answers,
more questions,
more answers.

created by Lisa Solomon ~ doily body : lungs, 2006, colored pencil and embroidery on duralar, 12 x 9 inches

Years ago,
her doctor drew
an upside down tree,
the trunk tracing her throat
then spreading
wide into branches dividing into smaller
branches and smaller
branches,
until they are too small to
split,
and the tips where the leaves would grow
curling in on themselves, refusing,
until the muscles between her ribs ache
and the space between her collar bones
hollows.

created by Lisa Solomon ~ doily body : brain, 2006, colored pencil and embroidery on duralar, 12 x 9 inches

She has only ever seen
a pencil-drawn brain,
an illustration from her old
lifeguarding manual,
with a clot the size of a thumbnail
lodged
like an unlucky penny
where the memory of that July afternoon
on the edge of the lake
used to be.

 

[All images used with permission from the extraordinary and gracious artist Lisa Solomon, poems written by Lindsay Zier-Vogel]