Artist Statement:

Words have coursed through my veins ever since I was five and found my mother’s Apple II. With the first clacking of the keys, I realized I could shape the world with a word. 

I try to illuminate the darkest corners of the world: the uneasy monsters that hide under our beds. I want to be a voice that shouts, “ I see what you see. I feel what you feel. You are not alone.”

I am an essayist, playwright, visual artist and poet who lives and works in Central Illinois. Please follow my artistic journey at http://rachaelstanford.wordpress.com/

 

After (You've Gone)

Rachael Stanford

 

life beats
on.

 

the heart generates
an electrical
signal

 

its own signal, 
animpulse

 

this,
we can prove
recorded by
an EKG

 

dots of
your fingertips
painting my
skin red

 

electrodes
on
chest

 

it exists

 

as

I and you,
did, do,

 

still do

 

though not us,
rusted, worn, rotten pictures

 

the impulse leads
to each beat

 

mix-tape memories stuck
controlling

 

a we’re-through, salty-tear
smooch stains until
you tear awayas
the signal spreads
across the heart

 

triggering
muscles to contract
in the correct sequence.

 

the signal spreads
right to left

 

a party of dreams
relay-replay.

 

pushing the blood into…

 

right to
left

 

right to
left

 

your face brushed
mine, smiling

 

the impulse is
then passed through
to the ventricles

 

misty, black n white
nightmares

 

us

 

causing
the ventricles to
contract.

 

I throw off my
sheet, ripping at
my skull.

 

the heart
beats
on.

 

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