No Award
by ecantwell:
For six years I assumed everyone
was like this: running around
in a strange haze; standing at the
bus stop with numberless other
small bodies whose faces I couldn’t
quite make out; slowly extracting
letters from a muddy mess of
lines. When I put the glasses on I was
shocked, I didn’t know what to do
with all this detail, with those
leaves, with the tread on the tires: I
didn’t know what to do with
all this sight—Why would they give
it to me if there was no award
for noticing the million tenuous
ruins of that other world we wished
we had been seeing all along
(and, so wishing, gave light, gave
body)—no reward except a sharper sense
of loss?
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msodradek reblogged this from ecantwell and added:
The amazing Elizabeth Cantwell is posting one of her draft poems every day during April. This is my favorite so far.
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by
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kurus said:
loved the last line..brilliant!
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ecantwell posted this
