Blackbird Archive← v2n2, Fall 2003Poetry · Volume 2, Number 2
The Spirit Tablets at Goa Lake, Epilogue
An artesian water-gig volunteers in the evening's mustard:
there's the dustfall of cow flies, stooped
and complicated by light
small girls in yellow rags
leaving the thousand years of a dry hillside;
the earth moves
lifting the children into sky,
to the poor kitchens of the darkening mountain
where hungry birds in their least bright aspect reply
in generous laughter-like repetitions of flight . . .
it is again, the mother night.
