Menu

Poetry

Today it’s like water in the ear, a slow bleed in the brain,
thinking of your bones
and the marrow inside them. Last night,

half-awake, I leaned into the siren as it passed
and thought of Coltrane writing his liner-note prayer
it all has to do with it

and listened for the drumbeat of another pulse in me.
It’s there, but I can’t hear it. In the morning
there will be blue sunlight and organ music
from the church across the street.

Where you’ve gone, there will be a night sky of psalms—
a cello’s goose neck, fingers waiting
above a stalled note.
________________Oh, ear of my ear,
there’s hardly anything
left of you now.


The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Access one piece of artwork every month for free! To experience the full archive, log in or subscribe.

Related Poetry

Daniel

By

Robert A. Fink

Lent: Deformed Pussy Willow

By

Anya Silver

Devotion: For Our Bodies

By

Brett Foster

Evolution

By

Margaret Gibson

Pin It on Pinterest