Untitled [the dark knows this] by Jennifer Patterson


“Untitled [the dark knows this]” by Jennifer Patterson


The dark knows this (1), the lap-fuls of minutes ‘til eyes shut, the way the throat feels blocked and gutted at the same time. Deep in the belly of a well.

There is an absence fingers know, a leaving.
Fingers try to grip.

Where it’s wooded,
where it’s windowless,
where the quilt has weight,
where a body lies,
where a body leaves.

Where a lake is still
water is broken (punctured) by an oar.

Where knowing means not.
Where letting go means standing still.

A deep well,
A dark hole.

Skin that doesn’t know fingers anymore.

I can’t find you.
I don’t want to.





(1) Linda Hogan, Dark & Sweet



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Jennifer Patterson Artist Statement:

Jennifer Patterson is a poet/writer, grief worker, creative and herbalist who uses words,
threads and plants to explore queer survivorhood, the body and healing. She is the editor
of the anthology Queering Sexual Violence: Radical Voices from Within the Anti-Sexual
Violence Movement (Magnus/ Riverdale Ave Books, 2016), facilitates trauma-focused
writing workshops and has had writing published in OCHO: A Journal of Queer Arts,
on The Establishment, the Outrider Review, and on The Feminist Wire. Jennifer also
finished a graduate program at Goddard College focused on translating
embodied traumatic experience through somatic practices and critical and creative
writing. You can find more at ofthebody.net.


Author: A Room of Her Own

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