From "Physics":
. . . His hand tangles in my hair
as the train passes,
and in that blur of sound and light
things are settled by a force
outside ourselves,
as we had hoped would happen.
In the afternoon,
the green plums hang invisible
on the green tree. At night they glow
with a powdery green light
of their own--
sour enough to last a while,
sour enough, surely.
Related Subjects
Poetry