A woman moves through a Cloud Hands position,
holding and rotating
an invisible globe—thud, shattering glass, moan,
horn blast—so many
worlds to this world—two men dipnet
at the mouth of a river—from a rooftop, a seagull
squawks and cries;
a woman moves through Grasp the Bird’s Tail—
someone on a stretcher
is wheeled past glass doors—a desert fivespot
rises in a wash—
and, pressing her tongue to the roof
of her mouth,
she focuses, in the near distance, on the music
of sycamore leaves.
From Sight Lines. Copyright © 2019 by Arthur Sze. Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc., on behalf of Copper Canyon Press.
Born in New York City in 1950, Arthur Sze is the author of nine books of poetry, including Compass Rose (Copper Canyon Press, 2014). He served as a Chancellor of the Academy of American Poets from 2012 to 2017.
Date Published: 2019-04-04
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/cloud-hands