Home : Poems : Poem of the Month : September 1999


ELEGY IN SPRING AND FALL AND SPRINGphoto: www.zverina.com

1.

Today,
I learned you were dying.
Why did I think
I never loved you?

2.

The magnolias
Are just opening.
How can you be dying?

3.

Today, I said No more.
Until I said it,
I didn't know
How much nothing was.

4.

The old stove
Cold and empty
In the hot house.

A silver pail
Full of ashes.
All the embers
Have gone out.

5.

I sit in the room.
On the window pane,
The same room outside,
A lantern
Floating in ink.

6.

On the wall
A huge round pot.
It would make
An excellent gong.
Will you come?

7.

Rain all day.
The robin is not bored
By the sudden appearance
Of worms.

8.

The road
Uncurls like a sash.
I wonder where you are.

9.

A small moon and cold.
The dead do not mind,
Their faces like moons.

10.

After the rain,
Drops of water from branches
Like ticks of a clock.

11.

A clear sky.
So high up, the hawk
Grows smaller
Than the iris of your eye.

12.

Your hand in mine.
A cold wind shakes the forsythia.

On the line,
White sheets,
Brightening.

Though followed by spirits,
I am not yet a ghost.

13.

A cold, gray day.
The first bird
Finds the feeder.

14.

On the table,
An open book.
On the branches,
Leaves half-shut.

15.

At the road's edge,
The crow struts
Half-hidden by blades
Where last week
There was nothing.

16.

Green shoots everywhere.
It is frightening,
Beneath the meadow
Thousands of bodies,
Uncurling their hands.

17.

The lamp in the room
Lights the feeder
Where it sways
In the dark.

18.

On the floor, a square of sunlight.
Through the window,
A slanting column
Of dust.

19.

Small burial mounds in the grass.
Mole tunnels.
An invisible opening in the earth.
The beetle vanishes.

20.

Water fills the hole.
A green snake
Makes his appearance.

Wherever you are,
Are you stirring?

21.

The clouds pass over,
Their shadows enormous.
I walk the road
With my stick,
Looking for you.

22.

Two rocks in the road,
An old couple
Stopped to rest
In the dust.

23.

It has not rained for days.
The wind blows the dry grass.
It ripples like water.

Downstream,
Petals on the water.
If I knew
There was something to look for!

24.

The rain poured down.
I cupped my hands
And drank,
The water,
And your image in it.

Your death is a hard book,
And the print is small.
All these things are in it.
This is, I think, the last lesson.
It is the book of your death
And I am struggling.
I am learning
To read all over again.

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