Our closed lake lightens against the distance; secret fish are already starting circles past the shade-edge, trembling, troubling the burning surface etherialized in bronze. 5 We cast our weights and watch the exalted sun shatter and recover its thousand wood-shavings of light. Itzak Perlman goes on loving his loving bow, striking the guessed-at multiples in the scale.... Together on the wilting dock we read 10 of the obsessive-compulsive jigsaw master, at 80, who drops the puzzle and completes his life; how much longer will we go on sinking into our bodies? When the wind's unseeing hand shakes the houses of the trees what will bend? 15 What rosin will we soften on our souls?
From the collection "Red Bank"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.