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Amanda Calderon


Just before the ape goes blind, the pupil from one eye migrates to the other.

We cannot say if one side mists & the other, overpopulated, goes doubly sharp. We cannot say if the pupil passes across or through its counterpart. If distinct interpretations are superimposed.

If the ape perceives only half a field in this condition. Half a room & half the aquaria therein.

If the misplaced pupil mangles fish, or if the world delivers mangled fish.

Miniature whale in a miniature sea. The ape presses two pupils up against the glass. If she scoops it out & holds it in her palm too long, the whale succumbs to gravity. Its bone sags into its tenderest organ.


Amanda Calderon lives in New York City, where she is currently at work on her first manuscript. She is a Pushcart nominee and graduate of New York University’s MFA program. Other writing can be found at Poetry, The Kenyon Review, Poets & Writers, Coldfront, and No, Dear.


See the full list of 2014 Emerging Poets Fellows