Previews
In the theater with the old-style seats and projection curtain
lit maraschino red, Ferrante tells me an interruptible story
between novel pages. The poor paperback, relegated
by form to the margins—swaying on an aboveground train,
listening for a boarding call, waiting for the lights to dim—
forgets the stature I lent it when I would answer what
I was reading by lifting the cover to hide my face. The usher
in his pinstriped vest thanks each ticket and the woman
in the plush next to me says she likes the worst sequels best
and can’t stand an actor who looks like an actor.
Another line scans like water I will forget drinking.
In moments, score will grip. Our eyes will meet the grain.
What chance, the printed word, up against song and light?
What chance, the reader, dazzled and dashed and dumbed,
seeking to leave the self behind for one story more?
Elizabeth Coletti is an editor, writer, and museumgoer from North Carolina now living in New York. She is the editor in chief of The Branches Journal, and her work has been published in the Pomona Valley Review, Thimble Literary Magazine, and elsewhere. Read more at thebranchesjournal.com or @elizabethcoletti on Substack.
The Marbled Sigh 