“Normal Light” by Alicia Ostriker

Alicia Ostriker’s poetry career spans fifty years, thirteen books of poetry (two of which were National Book Award finalists), and poems published in ten separate issues of Prairie Schooner. This year, she will be taking a different role at the Schooner: that of guest editor for the upcoming winter issue.

Her poem “Normal Light” was published in the Schooner’s winter issue of 2003, a season that averaged a temperature of 26.9°F and received a total of 31.7 inches of snow, which is about 25% higher than the norm. –Tory Clower

Alicia Ostriker
Normal Light

Normal light never killed anything.
When I beam my affection at you
Do not duck. It is not bullets.
Do not try to impersonate Superman.
It is not a laser.

What normal light wishes and dreams about
During its flight is how it will encounter
An object: every photon imagines this
The way we imagine gateways, that slowly open
As we fly toward them, into gardens,

The poppies and peonies making their mouths wide.
What actually happens to the light:
Striking a surface, some particles rebound
Like marbles, some are absorbed
And become heat, that’s it.

That’s usually it. But some
Flash on and inward to the curious cave
That is light’s garden, light’s antithesis,
And form an image.

                                    Sometimes an object struck
Where it has eyes, will see.
                                                Light dreams of this.