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Il y a un futur. Le futur passe.

By Aditi Machado
Poetry•Vol. XXIX No. 3 (Winter 2016)

after Kazimir Malevich

 

A prospect like a street I become
as I walk it, the agent of walking
as if blood on the lip: a kind
of hunting in which one eats
prior to capture: I perceive
an arrow, the arrow turns in
on itself, o complex
presentiment. How long before I
walk into the sea remembering
what the kelp felt like: like felt.
I think a line into the future
but on the sidelines history is
pressed along its pleats. I think
the period is a decimal point,
I dare not be more precise. I think
I’m not human, I’m grammarian.
There was a future, the future
passed. So a will was there,
now there isn’t.

Aditi Machado
Aditi Machado is the author of the chapbooks Route: Marienbad (Further Other Book Works 2016) and The Robing of the Bride (Dzanc 2013), and of the forthcoming poetry collection Some Beheadings (Nightboat 2017). She has translated Farid Tali's Prosopopoeia, which will be published by Action in 2016. She edits poetry in translation for Asymptote.

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