Today's poem is by Dale Kushner
The moon was a hook the night he died
beneath the wheels of his car.
A starless sky.
They rowed out to tell me.
I stayed in my canoe
while the swallows dipped into the soft black lake.
The sun fell in after them. It sank
like granite while I refused
to let the gentle night
I thought: Death is a kind of miracle.
I thought: The lake swallows the sun and the night
swallowed my father and who am I to deny
life's desire is to lie down without desire,
for the sun does not cry,
Oh Death! Death,
when it slips under the water.
Copyright © 2005 Dale Kushner All rights reserved
from The Greensboro Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
Support Verse Daily
Sponsor Verse Daily!
Web Monthly Features
About Verse Daily
Submit to Verse Daily
Publications Noted & Received
Copyright © 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005 Verse Daily
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005 Verse Daily All Rights Reserved