by Louise Glück

You have only to wait, they will find you.
The geese flying low over the marsh,
glittering in black water.
They find you.

And the deer—
how beautiful they are,
as though their bodies did not impede them.
Slowly they drift into the open
through bronze panels of sunlight.

Why would they stand so still
if they were not waiting?
Almost motionless, until their cages rust,
the shrubs shiver in the wind,
squat and leafless.

You have only to let it happen:
that cry—release,release—like the moon
wrenched out of earth and rising
full in its circle of arrows

until they come before you
like dead things, saddled with flesh,
and you above them, wounded and dominant.



J Cosmo Newbery said...

So are you saying I should pay more attention to those earnest young purveyors of fine door-to-door religion?

soubriquet said...

How did you know I read that same poem just last night?

red dirt girl said...


A few too many copies of Watchtower littering your front stoop?


red dirt girl said...


Great minds think alike etc. etc. ... XXX!

goatman said...

Is this of you?

Great images I feel. Beautiful graphic as well; you never fail to please.

red dirt girl said...

Hi goatman,

In a complicated, tapping pencil against teeth sort of way, one word answer: yes.

the image and images all reflect my current state of being.

thank you for the kind words.