‘Argyria’
— Nix Thérèse
It’s daring to begin a poem with a “you” immediately. There seems to be an implicit trust that the reader will want to live inside this persona, even for small moments. But the concept of argyria feels so fantastic and surreal in this space that I fell into this poem completely. When Scenters-Zapico brings the rare skin condition close enough to blight you, it’s hard to walk away from this poem unscathed.
Argyria gives a grey that makes you “think of dying as an alien”, but we are given what alien means in this context - “not the alien they called you / as a child because you had no papers, but the alien / they called you because your ears are removed from your head.” This sense of othering is one that the poem builds on. The you’s decision to poison themself doesn’t just come from a desire to be wealthy (as exhibited by the next line) or to distract from their inability to be accepted in this country. There’s a belief that the silver is inherently more valuable than the you’s physical self. The question—“will argyria turn you toxic?”—feels punchy because there’s the implication that the you has been tainted from the start in other’s eyes. This condition elevates the sense of othering beyond just a national difference. It says, “I’m not afraid of silver killing me.” It says, “I, and people like me, can retake control of fate.”
From the first line on, the poem has been tilting towards agency for the you, their family, and their community. Even though their sense of self-determination is distinctive, it gives us the opportunity to consider the many ways people respond to and resist oppression. We inhabit a body that’s been fighting for power all along. If we release a tired exhale at the end, how much more must the you's community long to be seen as legitimate? Becoming the you allows us to be an emotional conduit, so don’t just shake it off. Sit and be moved by it.