[Here’s the next B.N. poem; this one concludes the first section of the manuscript. Please enjoy!]
Dark Glass
The animals are
our rightful heirs—
they strut and screech
so meek, so civilized. They come
from the book of Esther
with beauty to spare,
an understanding for kin and kingship
and the promise: Someday you
will love this life,
this famous grey house.
The crows are making
a pilgrimage across
the lawn. I love to watch them walk.
Take my advice, wait until you can
wait no longer.
You can stand
to be without them,
narrow and alone, thinking
This is the person
I was meant to become. Deadpan
in love is the diminishing
I know by heart
which means a likeness
to forgive.
B.N.
© to the author, 1983-2009
This poem appeared previously in Gulf Coast