The better to hear you with, my dear. Come right in, prayer. Let those who have ears to hear, hear. (Ab. Sourd, bien sûr.) Of course, of course. Amo, amas: He listens. She glistens. Dear god, don't let me use. Shadows wave. Wane. Weather, and in that vein, a work of translation: shoot up, get high. Plough the clouds. Sky furrows, the brow of night, an evil thought, a star especially bright: anger, just that. Scat, track, shit, horse and what'd he just throw in our yard? Of night, a needle. Erose, the petal of the rosary to ring god's words around. Erose, those words in the mouth of night. where no teeth are.
Copyright © 2004 by Liz Waldner. Reprinted from Saving the Appearances, published by Ahsahta Press, 2004.
Poet Liz Waldner won the 2000 James Laughlin Award.
Date Published: 2004-01-01
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/eschew