by Rachelle Boyson

Displacement is the capability of language to communicate about things that are not immediately present, i.e., things that are either not here or are not here now.
– Displacement (linguistics) Wikipedia page

I am reminded of displacement each time we speak
of the dead. Each time I speak of my inherited salt
and pepper shakers, or the sculptor’s forever-unfinished
sculpture, or the bear I wear around my pulse,
I am reminded that this grief makes me human.
What would it be to be like the lions, the sparrows, the banana slugs—
to have anything out of sight or in another time be locked
out of our mouths? How would we know then, of the dead?
You leave the room to make a cup of tea, you drop
dead on your way to work. My tongue would lose you
entirely. I could not explain any difference, could not
truly trust any difference, until I saw your body
reappear in the doorway, hands cradling
my yellow mug, steam caressing your face,
your voice leaning in to offer, Here.

Rachelle Boyson is a Bay Area-based poet who uses both a scientific and an artistic approach to language in her writing. Rachelle’s work has appeared in ROPES Literary Journal, FeelsZine, and is forthcoming in Anti-Heroin Chic. She can be found on Instagram @rachellesierra37.