Sudden Encounters Poem by Melissa Studdard

The Orinoco overflows from a goblet,
spouts from the center as though
water had wings. I'm telling you,
this goblet rests on a table
in the hollow of a tree—so
deliberate that you can't help
but question if the almighty
watchmaker set it there himself.
Paley would have had his say,
to be sure, but this is about Varo
and her own fantastical teleology,
about how the source is never
what you would expect, how
inspiration swims like pink dolphins
through the rivers of night, daring
you to look into its eyes, challenging
you to brave a lifetime of nightmares
for the purchase of a moment of genius,
to be like the woman manning a vessel
no one else has ever seen, like Varo
herself—swimming on the river
with wings, her retinas burnt and open
by frequent, sudden encounters
with dark and unholy gods.