Now You Must Go Wherever You Wish
In moments like this, when he shows what appears to be a purely
accidental grace, it seems
almost believable: death has changed him.
as if having muscled finally a way clear of the dark,
a dark stripped of the very stars without which the night sky's
distance—and with it, the crossing of distance, meaning hope, risk,
ambition—wouldn't even be knowable,
he steps into the light, then out of it?
New England Review Volume 33, Number 1 / 2012
Volume 33, Number 1 / 2012
Copyright © 2012 by Carl Phillips
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission