When I was born I saw death devour the birth of something, perhaps the first thing so deep now it's hard to say, fruit perhaps, peaches on my mother's table. Then the particular way chickens stood on one leg. Death in sparrows. I remember their closed eyes, the hardness of the body of death. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VENUS OF THE LOUVRE by EMMA LAZARUS THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW EBB by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE GHOST by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE LAY OF ST. CUTHBERT; OR THE DEVIL'S DINNER-PARTY by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |