Talking With Your Hands
After Rembrandt Van Rijn’s “Homer Dictating “(1663)

“What are we to do with Rembrandt?” —Svetlana Alpers

Lit up by the story of an endless war
Homer recites the ancient epic poem
His eyelids sore, his hooded sockets dashed
Mouth opened to chant to his pupils
A thin gold line enhaloes his forehead
His large hands speak in rough strokes
One grasps a walking stick, one blurs in the air
Light clarifies his right shoulder
The painter tells us, We are in his hands

It’s not only the image Rembrandt gives us
Of the poet telling us about Achilles’ shield
It’s paint in 18th-century yellows and browns
That he cut quickly with a palette knife
And Homer didn’t write the words
He reports what he heard from the gods
Someone wrote the words down, somebody translated
And then the painting burned in a fire
Once you could see a scribe poised, listening
Now it’s only two fingers holding a pen

I love the parts in which we hear voices
People singing arguing calling saying vows
Dogs barking cows lowing lions roaring
Gods, heroes, people talking to each other
About what’s left behind when gone to war
Until we forget we’re listening to a story
As we’re reading a 21st-century book
About people dancing working grieving
Everyday my friends say, What are we going to do?
Telling a story about war with our hands

—Camille Guthrie

Camille Guthrie is the author of three books of poetry. Diamonds, a new book, is forthcoming from BOA Editions in 2021. She teaches writing at Bennington College and lives in Bennington, Vermont.