The title of Bhanu Kapil's "How to Wash a Heart" ends with an unfamiliar collocation: not an often washed part of the body like "hands" or "hair" but "a heart". This turn at the end of the phrase makes it a good title for a poetry collection, but its position as the collection's title also makes it less strange, as such word play is expected in poetry. And when the phrase first appears in the book, it's connected to the world of art by a "curator's question" about what kind of heart it is. This "heart" is thus both strange and familiar at once, as all words become in aesthetic contexts. (Andrew Shields, #111words, 9 November)
How to wash a heart:
Remove it.
Animal or ice?
The curator's question reveals
Their power style.
If power implies relationship,
Then here we are
At the part where even if something
Goes wrong,
That's exactly how it's meant to be.
Your job is to understand
What the feedback is.
It's such a pleasure to spend time
Outside the house.
There's nowhere to go with this
Except begin:
To plunge my forearms
Into the red ice
That is already melting
In the box.
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