Body and memory, poles linked in rapid succession like a woods by gunfire, by a fire sweeping just shy of the search. Fire whose aura is a mirror of travel, our moment of doubt, red leash on which we pull and catch glimpses. Here the invisible, here the red squirrel was. Glory of the fire so black at dawn, so tempting by noon, stroked by evening. When we walk back, there are cold thighs and the sun setting flames on the far eastern hills. Dogfights spot the warm snow, bitten ears. And you only felt pleasure without passion, only remembered the lily flung down the spine of the terrain as accident! Hateful to talk about exploits like a dog: the only beautiful things are prompted by voices; one acquiesces or fights. Called down the dark slope, you have to make a lifeline out of a few flashes, glow and afterglow, body and memory, what survives your spirited sleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LITTLE FEET by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN THE HOMECOMING by THOMAS HARDY THE NEW SIRENS: A PALINODE by MATTHEW ARNOLD STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY by BERNARD BARTON REMINISCENCE by LYLE BARTSCHER THE MINES OF AVONDALE by ALICE CARY ODE UPON OCCASION OF A COPY OF VERSES OF MY LORD BROGHILL'S by ABRAHAM COWLEY |