| Poem for Monday |
[Nov. 25th, 2002|09:17 am] |
Lynx Light
by Tess Gallagher
The quilt has slipped
my shoulders. And when
you kiss the knots
in my fate like that
it's as if a lynx
co-exists with a housecat.
Give me winter for constancy
and looking back: most silent because
most decided.
Teach me how to shed
this cold devotion
by which memory
is exchanged for alertness.
Come and go with me--sickle,
black tail lashing this
transparent net of birdsong.
* * * * * * * *
Watched the first half of Troubles last night while folding laundry. Sean Bean eats a carnation. Between this and Viggo eating a dead rose in The Prophecy, I'm starting to get into a distinctly Georgia O'Keeffe frame of mind.
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