What was it I was going to say?
Slipped away probably because
it needn’t be said. At that edge
almost not knowing but second
guessing the gain, loss, or effect
of an otherwise hesitant remark.
Slant of light on a brass box. The way
a passing thought knots the heart.
There’s nothing, nothing to say.
Copyright © 2015 by Thomas Meyer. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on July 1, 2015, by the Academy of American Poets.
You thought I’d flipped the switch and I hadn’t
You thought I’d left the window open
And I wouldn’t
You thought I’d turn the dial up
But I didn’t
You thought I’d ring the sun the super
But I shouldn’t
You thought I’d unlock the beehive
But I wouldn’t
You thought I’d sing the dirge
But I couldn’t
You thought I’d cook the rabbit
And I hadn’t
You thought I’d come back that day
And I didn’t
You thought I’d tend the flowers
But I couldn’t
You thought I’d turn the lock
But I hadn’t
You thought I’d open the door
See you
But I couldn’t
You thought I’d lay down
But I couldn’t
It kills me still
I couldn’t
I couldn’t
From Milk. Copyright © 2018 by Dorothea Lasky. Used with the permission of Wave Books and the author.
translated by Tess O’Dwyer
Yes, it’s true. Questions don’t change the truth. But they give it motion.
They focus my truth from another angle. And you said: we’re washing the
truth. Things must be clarified.
You don’t tell the truth and eventually your jacket comes back made of
another material, and your shoes say yes and run back to you telling my
truth. Though it’s raining now, it may not be raining inside your truth like it’s
raining outside. Though silent, you may be saying what I’m thinking when
you weren’t speaking. But don’t ignore me and then start up again saying
come when you said go. Then don’t expect me to listen when you say
come. You’ll come with your words get out and the door will open. I hear
those words and the door opens. Then you’ll come and I’ll know how to tell
you: get out.
Giannina Braschi, Asalto al tiempo, 1981. Translation Tess O’Dwyer, 2020.
Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. Remember me when no more day by day You tell me of our future that you planned: Only remember me; you understand It will be late to counsel then or pray. Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterwards remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad.
This poem is in the public domain.