Imani Elizabeth Jackson

Hydrography #4

The amount of sunlight landing here the rate of water rushing per second the flow of energy through a surface—these are flux. Dysentery—the flux.
Lost fluids. An act of passing in and out such as two crowds of people passing each other in a terminal. It can be painful. Once, I saw Debra in passing
and she smiled. It was all we could do. There is no such touch in passing I don’t think. When she’d gone I’d fallen to the floor and thought supposedly
flux is a substance for soldering metals and vitrifying ceramics and glass. Or perhaps I thought it meant continuous change. Cataracts get their name
from waterfalls. Opacity rains osmotic rocks. It can be painful. It can be life on its way out. It can be—there are many forceful discharges that rely
on downward motion.

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Imani Elizabeth Jackson is a poet making use of text, performance, and food. Her writings appear in or are forthcoming from HOLD, Triple Canopy, Apogee, TriQuarterly, and elsewhere. She has been an artist-in-residence at F4F, Antenna/Paper Machine (with S*an D. Henry-Smith), and ACRE. Imani is also a member of the Poetry Project's newsletter editorial collective and co-organizes the Chicago Art Book Fair. She is currently an MFA candidate in Literary Arts at Brown University.