Featured Poem: Gadolinium (Gd) by Christian Gullette
metallic complex for the MRI scan,
I watch his body become an interstate
of dye-drenched veins,
contrast agent tracing
the melanoma gripping the back of his eye.
Whatever privacies there are in this body,
they are different than what he arrived with,
a body happening
as I watch it,
coursing with gadolinium, one of the rare-earths
though I’m barely acquainted with the world
blurring before me.
I pretend to understand these scans.
His brain looks like water
after rinsing a brush
or a night view from space,
the planet’s cities
where darkness adheres to the edges.
Christian Gullette’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in the Kenyon Review, New England Review, Smartish Pace, Western Humanities Review, Meridian, and other journals. He was a finalist for the 2019 Orison Books Poetry Prize, the Iowa Review Poetry Award and a semi-finalist for the Discovery/Boston Review Poetry Contest and the 2019 Verse / Tomaž Šalamun Prize. He also serves as the editor-in-chief of the Cortland Review. Christian recently received his Ph.D. in Scandinavian Languages and Literatures from the University of California, Berkeley, where he is currently a lecturer in translation theory and Scandinavian literature.