October 18, 2007

 

comes someone’s music

 

comes the unturned page comes the name comes the footstep

 

W.S. Merwin....

 

comes wild

   the word-

                 who knows who

                           blew it in-

                                                says it is

                                                            ocean

                                                            oars’ creak

                                                            gulls’ cry

                                                                                    at sun’s set-

 

comes a pulse

            knows it is someone’s

                                    heart

                                    lungs

                                    liver

                                    spleen

                                    handclap of gypsies

                                    footstamp of bharat-

                                                               natyam dancer

 

comes a certain music

            does not remember

                                                its name

                                                whose famous old song

                                                                             has broken

                                                                                    and entered

                                                                                                this house?

                                    

                                                                snatch of Sappho?

                                                                murmur of psalmist?

                                                                laughter of Miribai’s lord?

 

comes the old story-

                        night ripper-

                        the one about

                                                going down

                                                            under

                                                            to visit her sister

                                                                              veil torn

                                                                              meat hook                                                                                                                              death’s eye-

 

                        

comes long

                        silence-           

 

                                    she says-

                                                can be language-

                                                            

                                                            there’s a music

                                                            even down here

 

                                                                        spirit moves

                                                                        shades chant

                                                                        in her dream

                                                                        someone is singing

                                                                                                

                                                                                                                        back

 

—Naomi Lowinsky

Posted by dwaber at October 18, 2007 09:04 PM