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Embrace

Embrace

– Poetry by Elizabeth Hill –

Featured in Issue 18 of Dreamers Magazine

Embrace

I embrace the words I don’t understand
in other people’s poems, for example:
Caduceus – the official wand carried by a herald in ancient
Greece or Rome, from the Greek karukeion.
It rhymes with my father’s name, Lucius,
which also dates back to ancient Rome.
Lucius carried the caduceus.

Evanescent – vanishing, imperceptible.
From the Latin evanescens.
Such a big word to mean something so simple.
It seems pretentious to resort to this word.
Why not just say, “imperceptible”?
And yet, it has an onomatopoeic appeal:
it sounds like something fading away.
An evanescent mist topped the waves.

Caul – part of the amniotic sac which may shroud
a new-born baby’s head. From the Old English cawl.
I can’t recall how this came up or in whose poem.
But such a specific, arcane image has a special impact.
Like a caul from a baby’s head, the meaning fell away from the word,
leaving it stark on the page.


Elizabeth Hill

About the Author – Elizabeth Hill

Elizabeth Hill is a Finalist in the 2022 Rattle Poetry Contest, with that poem appearing as Poem of the Day on February 20, 2023. She was nominated for the 2023 Pushcart Prize by Last Stanza Poetry Journal. Her poetry has been published in 34th Parallel Magazine, Boomerlit, SAND, and Catamaran, among other journals. A compassionate retired Administrative Law Judge who was responsible for suits between learning disabled children and the school system, Elizabeth lives in Harlem, NYC with her husband and two irascible cats.


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