Should the breadth of silence stretch,
Maria, sweet girl of the boughs of flowering
pear and tangerine trees, your stocking-foot
brown like the branch of a sapling tree,
and should the dark profundity of the earth
begin to part (among the hymns and litanies
of things I cannot comprehend
is how Orpheus sang down the earth to part
beneath his feet) then the rich black soil of spring
is where I plant the Could-flowering seeds
of all that I am not brave enough to be.
(chérie, avournine, Eurydice;
you will forgive the
thousand words I do not speak
when you know that language is
but the honeysuckle beneath your feet.)
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 11:52 PM UTC
Should the breadth of silence stretch,
Maria, sweet girl of the boughs of flowering
pear and tangerine trees, your stocking-foot
brown like the branch of a sapling tree,
and should the dark profundity of the earth
begin to part (among the hymns and litanies
of things I cannot comprehend
is how Orpheus sang down the earth to part
beneath his feet) then the rich black soil of spring
is where I plant the Could-flowering seeds
of all that I am not brave enough to be.
(chérie, avournine, Eurydice;
you will forgive the
thousand words I do not speak
when you know that language is
but the honeysuckle beneath your feet.)
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