portion of the artwork for Beth Suter's poetry

About That Knowledge I Cannot Name
Beth Suter

What I mean by knowledge
             is a certain sensation
a pressure in the ears
             after the screaming stops

an absence of ringing—
             is that the divine I can’t hear?
Like that first raspberry
             after a fast

it’s your hunger
             that makes it explode—
and mine was the brightest childhood
             a sharp iridescence

like the hummingbird
             in the hospital’s courtyard
how it paused at my face
             how part of me hoped

my tears looked like nectar.
             Survival can be like this—
the kind of beauty
             that costs an eye—

I can only say I believe
             in the hummingbird
the closest I get
             to some kind of faith.

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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 59 | Spring/Summer 2022