Out of gray we made the pin-oak leaves
with their saw teeth and odd waxy sheen,
dry and matte to the touch, out of granite
we made the marriage house, and always
we added a flaw which we called fire
or time or the stranger.
Tomorrow that red Schwinn with training wheels
must find a way to pedal itself.
Psalm to Be Read with Closed Eyes
Ignorance will carry me through the last days,
the blistering cities, over briny rivers
swarming with jellyfish, as once my father
carried me from the car up the narrow steps
to the white bed, and if I woke, I never knew it.
A Night in Brooklyn
Alfred A. Knopf
Copyright © 2012 by D. Nurkse
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission