I like to
find
what's not
found
at once, but lies
within something of
another nature,
in repose,
distinct.
Gull feathers of
glass, hidden
in white pulp: the
bones of squid
which I pull out and
lay
blade by blade on the
draining board—
tapered as if for swiftness, to pierce
the heart, but fragile, substance
belying
design. Or
a fruit, mamey,
cased in rough brown
peel, the flesh
rose-amber, and the
seed:
the seed a stone of
wood, carved and
polished,
walnut-colored, formed
like a brazilnut, but
large,
large enough to fill
the hungry palm of a
hand.
I like the juicy stem
of grass that grows
within the coarser
leaf folded round,
and the butteryellow
glow
in the narrow flute
from which the morning-glory
opens blue and cool
on a hot morning.
Denise Levertov
No comments :
Post a Comment