Today's poem is by Donald Revell
The Cattle Were Lowing
It might also have been a sleigh ride.
Mozart's sister, a perfect oval and more
than perfect incline,
Tucked into a blanket, laughs
For the first and last time in her life.
Genealogies tickle a little, and then a long
Pain of connection, most awful
Pain of separation every Christmas.
Even angels find their armor
We rode across the snowy plain. The earth
Was mirror-glass ground into a fine powder.
Oh do not stop. Do not stop ever. I
Will give you a book of matches if . . .
There is the first of three dances still to consider,
And poverty, sole purpose of the wren.
Copyright © 2013 Donald Revell All rights reserved
from The Literary Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
Support Verse Daily!
Home Web Weekly Features Archives About Verse Daily FAQs Submit to Verse Daily
Copyright © 2002-2013 Verse Daily All Rights Reserved