Foreword Reviews

In Accelerated Silence

As the poet takes her own sweet hold of space-time, the Higgs field, electron clouds, fusion, and dark matter, she tethers the universe’s greatest mysteries to matters of the heart. A recipient of an Artist Trust Grant and a Centrum residency, Brooke Matson’s poems have recently been published in Potomac Review, Prairie Schooner, and TAYO.


In kindergarten the teacher
asked What kind of things are
and arms rocketed
toward the ceiling with
apples firetrucks roses.
I raised my hand and said,
Anything can be red, like a
sweater or a crayon
, and Mrs.
Curley’s face fell and said,
No, things that are always red.
But my favorite apple is
yellow, I thought, the same
frustration as when my
friend tells me to broaden
my focus, to think about
moving on to another
metaphor, and maybe I am
a bull anchored to what
hurts, charging sentences at
what I cannot understand:
a cluster of small hands
firing into the air like
flags, symbols of how
the world ought to be.
I ought to let it go—maybe.
I return to red red red
because I cannot let it go
or turn my head the way
most people focus on the
Positive—flower not blood,
pomegranate not wound.
Maybe I am the narrow hot
line at the edge of the
visible spectrum, inching
toward invisible, bordering
on irrelevant. Understand:
anything can be red,
usually when someone or
something splits open

Reviewed by Matt Sutherland

Disclosure: This article is not an endorsement, but a review. The author of this book provided free copies of the book to have their book reviewed by a professional reviewer. No fee was paid by the author for this review. Foreword Reviews only recommends books that we love. Foreword Magazine, Inc. is disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255.

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