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a strand of loose hair

Ric on January 8, 2010 in Austin Poetry, Death, Modern Poetry, Texas Poetry, Theopoetic, mythopoetics, poetry No Comments »

listening to his voice
she plays back to
him over thirty
years ago or
even today
he says
that is
not
me
the face
reflected in
the afternoon
light of a window
as he glances walking

past on his way to work
that is not his face not his body
no one can hear him the way he hears
himself nor does anyone see him as he sees
himself or you reading this poem silently or aloud
do not hear yourself reading the way the poem hears you
the way the poem sets itself upon the screen or a page
or if a god appears manifests flesh in hand how
does she feel revealing something of a mere
appearance a light carrying a surface or
waves pulsing heat & not heat
a glance that means what as
if a smile or a strand of
loose hair a folding

of a hand or a tilt
of the head or
the actor in
a dressing
room
weeping
remembering
when a boy tumbled
off a cliff into a gray sea
o Lear o Icarus o child of ghostly
days who bears the unseen untranslated
the buried—what gulf gestures with lowered eyes
how a hawk limped on the side of the road dying & he kneeled
silently near until the eyes dulled—& he took the thing home & had it stuffed