Thursday, January 23, 2014

Inverse Translation #9 after Andrew Elliott

Mechanical Heal
an inverse translation after Andrew Elliott

by Susan Calvillo

Not that anyone’s looking, but my latest digital signature resembles an electrocardiogram flatline. It writes so little proof of my presence that no one bothers to check it anymore.

The frame, the plastic monitor, and stylus add up to a brief interlude at the check-out, but not to a name featuring the curlicues and loops of a girl once voted “mostly like to succeed” in a high school yearbook.

I blame sloth. I must be on my way. The check-out clerk must be on to the next customer. The only consequence of calling out this lame excuse for my identification is an ever-growing disgruntled line.

We are presented with so many opportunities to correct frowns, as if any of us ever bother interfering in public. Evidence of my existence in grayscale.

Brief motions like these press me to run from myself. This unwavering impression, this digital recording reveals, as ever, this is just what I am.

No thumbprints needed. No tissue sample. Anyone in this line behind me could be me, every last one of them could draw a line too, and they likely will in turn.

This is an inverse translation of Andrew Elliott's "Killers."
Never heard of the Inverse Translation Project? Read about it here.
For Elliott's original poem follow the link here

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