Andrew Christoforakis
Andrew Christoforakis is a poet and cubicle-dweller based out of Naperville, IL. He studied economics at the University of Chicago before taking a hard left turn to creative writing. He has work published or forthcoming in The Ekphrastic Review, West Trade Review, Ink Nest Poetry, and B O D Y.
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My buddy texts me that he’s at
his daughter’s violence recital
and it takes me a moment to realize
he means violin recital,
but it’s too late, my imagination’s
run off like an unleashed dog
chasing a squirrel. The phrase
endears me with its precision:
this is how a body breaks
things, be they boards or bricks
or other bodies. Rows of children
demonstrating their punches and kicks,
their disciplined stances,
dodging invisible bo staffs.
Better here than on the football field,
I think, colliding with others so hard
their brains rattle an infinitesimal
amount past the thin line between
self-sufficiency and dependence,
spoon and feeding tube.
From the Latin recitare
meaning “read aloud, repeat
from memory”, my young warriors,
these kung-fu fighters are snapping
their arms and legs to the beat,
no sound save the displaced air
and their battle cries. Why
do we let them do this?
Why do we let them
do anything? Because
there’s virtue in the struggle,
the long hours honing mind
and muscles like razor blades.
To my friend this meant sheet music,
bow strings, flawless legatos.
But I can’t help myself.
His daughter’s body is the music,
her own proof of concept,
all the power contained
in one tiny, unshakeable fist.
