Lacuna means a gap in something;
like we don’t know how they built Stonehenge.
That’s a lacuna.
We have a lacuna in our knowledge about Stonehenge.
A Stonehenge lacuna.
I used to have a lacuna lacuna but then I looked it up.
It has the same root as lake.
Latin: lacus, meaning pool.
Which is odd. Because a pool, a lake,
is by definition a gap filled.
The big empty lake-shaped space in the earth is filled
with water; making it a lake.
Otherwise it would be a crater.
From the Greek: krasis, meaning mixture, then krater,
meaning mixing bowl.
Which also suggests a gap filled
with whatever’s being mixed.
I suppose all lacunas are filled.
Pools, mixing bowls. The water in them
is so perfectly clear that we can’t see it.
It is the same temperature as our bodies.
It is empty space. But it is there.
Thin and fluid,
awaiting murky knowledge.
shining a light in the dark, the edge of the light.
The border of the darkness is the lacuna.
It’s empty but full.
Alfie Prendergast is a writer currently studying an MLitt in Creative Writing at Glasgow University. He writes about human futures, occult pasts and thoughts overheard. He is currently working on his first novel, as well as producing Open Mic Podcast; a literary reading podcast which hopes to capture the intrepid energy of open mic reading nights in podcast form.
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