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"May Pang"
2 Comments - Show Original Blog
This is for Peter. (This poem won the David Markowitz Award at CCNY when I was chosen Best Poet by the English Department, when I graduated with a BA in English, to be followed later by an MS in Special Education). I am tempted to quote English poet Robert Graves, who said 'prose books are the show dogs I breed and sell to support my cat.' His first love was and remained poetry.
Evil
Sunglight on the day after.
A cold gun
Out of nowhere.
To touch us
And be touched.
The sky that refuses today.
The sunset that knows.
Candles' intricate patterns
Like lips raised to
A thousand broken
Shapes.
Evil, the question.
For which there is no answer.
A tattered photo of a man
And woman in last embrace
Hangs in the wind-
Evil.
Buzz of flies' discontent.
Temples of flowers.
Our voices dried up in caves..
Echoes in our throats.
The blood of generations.
Our blood.
(P.S. This poem was inspired by 'A Passage to India' by E.M. Foster. I am not sure why, but at the time it made sense to me. Later, I used the poem in the Lennon book. Although it was not intended for him, specifically, it somehow fit the chronology of the original second section.)
Best,
Judith
Just checking in.
Will be posting a poem here, shortly.
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