Interstitial Archaeology

The visceral latest from Zamora (Quotient) offers powerful and disquieting vignettes exploring racism, language, and the body. As a Latina raised in the grip of persecution, financial adversity, and abuse, the poet lays bare the impact of vulnerability and neglect: “My body a ghost of an outline, behind empty glass,/ reverberates.” She describes these power dynamics as a looming predator—“whiteness wants to swallow my veins, pull my spine/ through incisors—a meal to wipe from chin, wash hands & be done”—and denounces America’s negligence: “A nation sits/ laminating an open wound, vulnus sclopetarium—anatomic/ site of injury—repeats in stagnation.” Elsewhere, Zamora derides how ideology manipulates semantics (“A definition depends on who speaks & who remains silent”) while longing to express what has no verbal equivalent: “I too grope for words. My dust-devil/ heart. All this time, I chase my own ribs, each/ stair of bone, a climb.” Anatomical and ecological metaphors, bleak sociopolitical realities, and confessional reverie are bolstered through strategic use of white space, erasure, and repetition. Palpable and urgent, these potent poems revel in defiance, catharsis, and wonder. (Apr.)