Saturday, December 22, 2012

A Meena Alexander Poem

Night Theater

Snails circle
A shed where a child was born.

She bled into straw 
Who can write this?

Under Arcturus, 
Rubble of light:

We have no words 
For what is happening 

Still language endures
Celan says

As he stood in a torn
Green coat

Shivering a little,
In a night theater, in Bremen.


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