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| | Arm and Pec (the 2 adillos)
Mine was just
a little sin (the iridescent fast
kind of conception). Yours
was large and armored.
Take that eighteen-wheeler oh a glancing
mile or two away-that thing
was tiny when compared
to your awareness,
which (foretelling some unpleasant wake
from deep inside its nugget of medulla) took
a portion of all time
to call its own, to roll into
an utterly invulnerable tumble-off
the whole damn human highway-past
the dashers, fast becoming soft,
where represents become repasts-
to help you circle slow and sure toward your
deserted future. It's a low
idea that turns itself
into a skull, meaning to last. --Heather McHugh | Originally published in the April/ May 1998 issue of Boston Review |
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