| For the gods do take all sorts of transformations, appearing as strangers from elsewhere -- Homer |
Their presences drop back as haze,
into no early light. Rounding the devil's own blind bend
the road's winding settles into us
and we forget those other possibilities
lining the highway and the way back
As if they could stop the wheels' dry spin,
the weave of asphalt. We drive on
with nothing to follow then
beyond a strobic beam, and the engine's echo
curling through the canyon.
Ahead the distances unfurling,
then narrowing. And we are hurtling
into them, spiraling
into that point.
| (South Hadley, 1978) | |
| Published in Pegasus, the Mount Holyoke College literary magazine; and in The Oyster Boy Review. |