For her Zócalo sketchbook, Kethevane presents us with a new series of her figures, called Voiceless. Her alien-like entities are recomposed from organic or mineral elements, archaeological fragments or objects. They appear to us isolated in a void, making them intentionally difficult to situate in space and time.

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as I held my hand out from
the car on drives back to Texas.
The whole time my child hand

bucked and braced—a human flag
that, like everything human, refused
to be itself—I thought the wind

familiar, and made more so by
exposure; enough time,
my hand would turn element.

If in the wind I felt everything
I knew the world to be made of,
then perhaps in the air between

Matamoros and Corpus Christi
the lines of my father’s face deepen
as the horizon deepens now

the more the sun sinks into it;
as the lines on this page deepen
as my hand braces into each word.

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