Skip to content

Log Out

×

Poetry

Why so sad? To which the other turned toward the lake.
—-Blue glaze-like sky. Cobalt with sun seams. Like ceramic,
lately thrown. That’s not it. Wind in the miniature crab.
—-And a thousand tiny apples, scrubbed with first dew, shaking

and dripping, each the size of a wren’s heart. That’s
—-not it. No, after it has sung. In alarm. Trying to attract.
Flown now into another yard, another tree. What do you
—-mean sorrow is unsafe when it is real sorrow. Hear them

singing? They are gone. You can still hear them singing.

 

 


David Baker’s latest book of poems is Whale Fall (Norton). He lives in Granville, Ohio.

 

 

 

Image depends on its subscribers and supporters. Join the conversation and make a contribution today.

+ Click here to make a donation.

+ Click here to subscribe to Image.


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

Receive ImageUpdate, our free weekly newsletter featuring the best from Image and the world of arts & faith

* indicates required