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More poems by Philip LevinePhilip Levine | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by Philip LevineBooks by Philip Levine


Philip Levine

The air lay soffly on the green fur 
of the almond, it was April 

and I said, I begin again 
but my hands burned in the damp earth 

the light ran between my fingers 
a black light like no other 

this was not home, the linnet 
settling on the oleander 

the green pod swelling 
the leaf slowly untwisting 

the slashed egg fallen from the nest 
the tongue of grass tasting 

I was being told by a pulse slowing 
in the eyes 

the dove mourning in shadow 
a nerve waking in the groin 

the distant hills 
turning their white heads away 

told by the clouds assembling 
in the trees, told by the blooming 

of a black mouth beneath the rose 
the worm sobbing, the dust 

settling on my eyelid, told 
by salt, by water, told and told.

Added: 25 Feb 2002 | Last Read: 24 Mar 2019 9:13 AM | Viewed: 3637 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/2955/ | Viewed on 24 March 2019.
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