[So, the day will become a small boat]
Feb 13, 2015
So, the day will become a small boat
we know we’ll have to bail. No matter
& never mind what’s left or left
to say. There’s water & there’s wind
to cut it off, carry it off
& any way. &, So, when even the birds—.
When every road—.
When the hour
lengthened by waiting becomes
space, a room of nothing much happens
swells & then the wave—. Back
& back again we turn: the time, each once
-dear phrase, every shift of light.
& when becomes—& what
we don’t get to choose—
come morning when morning
fills up with synonyms
for rain & that
touching & what troubles.
While we have you...
...we need your help. You might have noticed the absence of paywalls at Boston Review. We are committed to staying free for all our readers. Now we are going one step further to become completely ad-free. This means you will always be able to read us without roadblocks or barriers to entry. It also means that we count on you, our readers, for support. If you like what you read here, help us keep it free for everyone by making a donation. No amount is too small. You will be helping us cultivate a public sphere that honors pluralism of thought for a diverse and discerning public.
February 13, 2015