FOR FRANZ WRIGHT
It is almost midnight
when the bright moon
makes its way high enough
to just peek
through the tops
of Carolina forest.
You, in your agonies,
in the fullest sense of agoniea
– athletic strain –
– not the agony of defeat;
there is no agony in defeat –
but in the struggle toward consummation.
You, in your agonies,
are furious, empty, and
deliriously grateful.
You have seen
just enough
through the tree tops.
—Dan Edwards