They happened in us . . . But later we moved away -- Or they did. Went west. Went south to the goldfields. Disappeared somewhere beyond Salt Lake or Denver -- Their roads are still in the map of our flesh: Easy to get to almost any time Around midnight. But the land shifts and changes, the map Gets out of date, The century stretches its joints, And one day we stand by the marked tree and ask: WAS IT HERE WAS IT HERE While, stunned but tireless, Memory, the lodestone that always points toward pain, Hunts, slow and sluggish for its North, Turning through the thickening crystals of tired flesh That was pure honey, once. 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...JOHN MOULDY by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE SONNET: 46 by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: AMANDA BARKER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS OZYMANDIAS by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY SAINT TERESA'S BOOK-MARK by THERESA OF AVILA EJACULATORY PRAYER by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS |