let me off
at the sigh, the painted-in locus
on no map
wildness chopped up
and thrown in the river
wainscoting in old houses, drapes stained
and smelling of
shoe polish
the warrior spirit
a bookmark in the manual of restitution
comfort
like a wad
of milkweed cotton
keys glinting on the sill
grace
high up in window boxes
the cold facts
the peeled
face of total loss
pigeon dumplings for supper
everybody
reading a book at the table
the one that
tells the whole story without getting blood on it.
Charlie Smith ’65 is the author of 10 poetry collections, eight novels and a book of novellas. He has won a Guggenheim Fellowship and a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts, among other honors. This poem was originally published in Smith’s new collection, I Am Your Lifeguard: New and Selected Poems.
