Clouds thin into form: a hawk pulling a tail of rings -- beads of an abacus, the mathematics of light -- a lengthening spine, snakeskin no longer inhabited. All day I'm giving a name for what isn't there. Yet somewhere we've left our likeness, the hollow shapes of us. Even though the snake has slipped into the shade, the shed skin, deceptively whole, hidden in the sun-flecked grass, remembers what it once held. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CA' THE YOWES TO THE KNOWES by ROBERT BURNS LITTLE BOY BLUE by EUGENE FIELD THE VIRGIN'S SLUMBER SONG by JOSEPH FRANCIS CARLIN MACDONNELL HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY: 7. 'SIENA MI FE' by EZRA POUND THE SALZBURG CHIMES by HENRY ALFORD OH, TORTURE NOT MY SOUL! by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS EMPTYING ASHES by MAXWELL ANDERSON A REPLY TO AN IMITATION OF THE SECOND ODE OF HORACE by RICHARD BENTLEY |