← v21n2, Fall 2022
Poetry · Volume 21, Number 2

The other side, beyond bird, mountain, sunset

—Still, over here, where you can’t see

Anyone anymore, any longer, the less

Seen the better, you’ve always thought,

Wasn’t it the blackbird that flew off

The branch, not knowing where it was going, nor you?

—You would often say the landscape hasn’t

Changed since the Renaissance, that you still

Mean well, up to and including the day

You’ll leave us staring at the ground covering

The grave, ground decoded, ground up . . .

—When you sat down to do the long division

Of the cells, what did you find besides enlightenment,

Did you take sides at the forge, were you

Considering yourself the hammer, or would you

Be the anvil, the wreck of life waiting?