Thursday, May 23, 2013

Cottonmouth Country

- Louise Gluck

Fish bones walked the waves off Hatteras
And there were other signs
That Death wooed us, by water, wooed us
By land: among the pines
An uncurled cottonmouth that rolled on moss
Reared in the polluted air.
Birth, not death, is the hard loss.
I know. I also left a skin there.

from: The First Four Books of Poems, Copyright 1995.

No comments:

Post a Comment