Their sin was surviving their desire. The end was tough.
- John Hollander, “Literal Account”
At the edge, then slips into the still air
Still white with last night's snow
And falling into a puddle it leaps a little
Into the air again, hovers and falls again,
Becomes again the ripple it had made.
For a moment I am standing at the lake
Where I had come after a different snow,
The water calm and fringed white with ice.
I threw a stone and for as long and as far
As I could watch the lake shuddered with
Ripples, its thin skin shivering wrinkles
And bruised dark where the stone struck.
Cold hard truth makes its own impression:
I was the stone then, and now the water.
Poetry by countryfog
Read 410 times
Written on 2011-03-27 at 19:34
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- John Hollander, “Literal Account”
Looking Back
From the rusty gutter one drop hesitatesAt the edge, then slips into the still air
Still white with last night's snow
And falling into a puddle it leaps a little
Into the air again, hovers and falls again,
Becomes again the ripple it had made.
For a moment I am standing at the lake
Where I had come after a different snow,
The water calm and fringed white with ice.
I threw a stone and for as long and as far
As I could watch the lake shuddered with
Ripples, its thin skin shivering wrinkles
And bruised dark where the stone struck.
Cold hard truth makes its own impression:
I was the stone then, and now the water.
Poetry by countryfog
Read 410 times
Written on 2011-03-27 at 19:34
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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ngaio Beck |
