If they don't see happiness in the picture at least
they'll see the black. -Chris Marker

A magnolia tree in full bloom, X-
rayed by a streetlamp,
pressed against the windowpane
like someone hopped onto the glass
of the office Xerox and hit copy

A magnolia tree in full bloom, winter
in black and white: cold, grainy air
and your fingers pointing, Last April
your husband buried
the two halves of a snake you shot

your new film about a river
that flows backwards
Rivers, did you know,
are measured by a sinuosity index
in opposite corners

of the yard so one half wouldn't find
Length as crow flies divided by
length as fish swims weight
and counterweight. A magnolia,
framed, a shot looking for its pair.



About this poem
"This poem's epigraph is taken from the Chris Marker film 'Sans Soleil.' For some reason, I find the idea of orphaned footage incredibly poignant. It reminds me of all the lost or abandoned images that I've cut from my poems over the years, even of the orphaned left socks in my drawer."
-Tung-Hui Hu

About Tung-Hui Hu
Tung-Hui Hu is the author of "Greenhouses, Lighthouses" (Copper Canyon Press, 2013). He teaches at the University of Michigan and lives in Ann Arbor, Mich.

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The Academy of American Poets is a nonprofit, mission-driven organization, whose aim is to make poetry available to a wider audience. Email The Academy at poem-a-day[at]poets.org.


(c) 2015 Tung-Hui Hu. Originally published by the Academy of American Poets, www.poets.org. Distributed by King Features Syndicate