Two Poems
What about one of Michelangelo’s last Pietas
in the maze of outbuildings at Sforza Castle, the dead Christ
visually carrying his mother
What about one of Michelangelo’s last Pietas
in the maze of outbuildings at Sforza Castle, the dead Christ
visually carrying his mother
Is it cardinals
that separate seed from the yellow blades of rye
the way braille comes up with the fingertips,
I remember erecting a screened-in porch
for a house I lived in, the staple gun
all afternoon like a giant mosquito
I keep returning to that window
in the mountains of southern Bavaria.
I’m pushing the halves open
Standing in November (as the dead
Brown color seeps into the land),
In waders and in water, with a red