Today's poem is by Brenda Hillman
After the Feast at Year's End
the flash, a low cry,
a storm took the lights
where were you when the glass broke?
Were you in the field with a startled heart?
Earth's axis tipped twice in the dark
& nothing gleamed in a singular way;
whoodie-whoo went the owl
in the incense bough while daffodils
pushed up quite soon
like the thesis in a freshman essay . . .
The dead are patient among the trees,
visitor greets anti-visitor,
masked chickadee, masked waxwing
(masked waxwing is pretty darn hard to say);
the violent are not carried away,
they are packaged on Twitter . . .
Then the body is the broker
for the wound & the miracle
(though the wound can't wait
to reveal itself & the miracle
knows the exit, in advance)
Copyright © 2012 Brenda Hillman All rights reserved
from Colorado Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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