Poems by Anne Carson
After your death.
It was windy every day.
Every day.
Opposed us like a wall.
We went.
Shouting sideways at one another.
Along the road.
It was useless.
The spaces between us.
Got hard.
They are empty spaces.
And yet they are solid.
And black and grievous.
As gaps between the teeth.
Of an old woman.
You knew years ago.
When she was.
Beautiful the nerves pouring around
in her like palace fire.
She ran in.
Wet corn.
Yellow braid.
Down her back.
Town of the Sound of a Twig Breaking
Their faces I thought were
knives.
The way they pointed them at me.
And waited.
A hunter is someone who listens.
So hard to his prey it pulls the
weapon.
Out of his hand and impales.
Itself.
Town of Spring Once Again
"Spring is always like what
it used to be."
Said an old Chinese man.
Rain hissed down the windows.
Longings from a great distance.
Reached us.
Hanging on the daylight black.
As an overcoat with no man in it one
cold bright.
Town on the Way through God's Woods
Tell me.
Have you ever seen woods so.
Deep so.
Every tree a word does your heart
stop?
Once I saw a cloud over
Mountains were cowering do you ever?
Look in so quick you see the secret.
Word inside the word?
As in an abandoned railway car.
One winter afternoon I saw.
The word for "God's
woods."