Annie Stenzel
Makerspace: the body as school
Our backs, 33 vertebrae as the torso's wisdom, skull to sacrum. Now shoulders, what they tell the world when they slump, then square. The arms' astonishment at what they hold, at their competence in tasks like lifting, and hands, full of time, so that minutes fall on top of hours, mixed but unmatched. And the fingers a weir, trapping days to slow their escape into captivity, a.k.a. the past. Two palms with their long stories, line by line, whether we believe the lore or not. Our minds full of thoughts, some strapped into safe places by words that act like cages. Two feet, mostly willing, but also when grieved by blisters, bunion, cramp. Ears, if they catch the sound made by living water (ocean-river-lake). Eyes, as they throw upside-down images onto the brain's neat screen. Oh, those blessed eyes of ours. Closed, tear-filled, open.
Bio
Annie Stenzel was born in Illinois, but has lived on both coasts of the U.S. and on other continents at various times in her life. Her booklength collection is The First Home Air After Absence (Big Table Publishing, 2017). Her poems appear in print and online journals in the U.S. and the U.K., from Ambit to Willawaw Journal with stops at Chestnut Review, Gargoyle, Gone Lawn, On the Seawall, Psaltery & Lyre, right hand pointing, Stirring, The Ekphrastic Review, and The Lake, among others. A poetry editor for the online journals West Trestle Review and right hand pointing, she lives within sight of the San Francisco Bay. For more, see anniestenzel.com.