Menu

Poetry

This is a rich, mighty martyrdom.
             —Santa Teresa de Ávila, The Book of Life

You bind my hands with saliva, then turn three times round my waist and ensure your victory with a knot without a loophole. You’re a snail, binding the hands of the rain. You rend the night any which way and bandage my eyes with such force that my breath sinks into its misty tundra. You appear, penetrate the walls of my cell, hold down my scream with your scream. I try to get free of myself like a cobra under the narcotic effects of music. Please, tell me who you are, you who in this way have bound me to death.

 

Translated from the Catalan by Sharon Dolin


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

rich blue sky with a brighter blue in the center, ringed by darker jewel blue tones. arctic birds fly across the sky, their white bodies punctuating the sky.

Greater Solitude

By

Cintio Vitier

image of a large pinkish wave or spray of water crashing over a dark green rock. the image is full of the water's spray, like a thick haze you can feel.

Hesiod on Bushfire

By

Les Murray

Faith

By

Katharine Coles

The Reader’s Prayer

By

Kim Stafford

Pin It on Pinterest