by Victoria Chang
August 6, 2024
When I open the door, I smile and wave to people who only have eyes and who are infinitely joyful. I see my children, but only the backs of their heads. When they turn around, I don’t recognize them. They once had mouths but now only have eyes. I want to leave the room but when I do, I am outside, and everyone else is inside. So next time, I open the door and stay inside. But then everyone is outside. Agnes said that solitude and freedom are the same. My solitude is like the grass. I become so aware of its presence that it too begins to feel like an audience. Sometimes my solitude grabs my phone and takes a selfie, posts it somewhere for others to see and like. Sometimes people comment on how beautiful my solitude is and sometimes my solitude replies with a heart. It begins to follow the accounts of solitudes that are half its age. What if my solitude is depressed? What if even my solitude doesn’t want to be alone?
Victoria Chang’s most recent book of poems is With My Back to the World, published in 2024 by Farrar, Straus & Giroux. She is the Bourne Chair in Poetry at Georgia Tech and Director of Poetry@Tech.
Photo by Rozette Rago
This poem is in conversation with Agnes Martin’s painting, “Grass, 1967”.
From With My Back to the World : Poems. Published by Farrar, Straus & Giroux