Sunday, December 23, 2012

Retroactive By Kay Ryan

If reward or
amends could
set the clock
back, as occurs
in fall when
an hour is stalled
for the sake of light,
then our golgothas
could be put right.
The kiss or reform
or return of the
family farm world
soak into the
injury, ease the
knot of memory,
un-name the site
of harm. If there
could be one day
-one hour-of Jubilee
would walk their property.

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Cheshire By Kay Ryan

It's not the cat
it's the smile that
lasts, toothy
and ruthless.
It's facts like this
we like to resist-
how our parts
may lack allegiance
to the whole;
how the bonds
may be more casual
than we know; how
much of us
might vanish
and how well
some separate separate part
might manage.

Monday, December 3, 2012

Oh, Forgotten Umbrella...

People forget who you are.
They walk through many countries,
and the earth rotates,
Day and night shift, confused.
Stars have forgotten their names,
All night, they stare at the darkness,
Out of breath, dancing barefoot.
O, forgotten umbrella,...
Jupiter skipped you,
Moon winked at you,
Venus spoke to you, from the distance.