On Borges's Book Of Sand
In Jorge Luis Borges
we hear the falling cadence
of an obstinate man, largely blind
with maybe only 10 years to live,
fluent enough to remember horrors
and how well the will preserves
pale images of all that, and Love–
whereas we the patient learners
turn over his old stories like a field
sharp into our own stubbornness
till we too are reading by candlelight
the parables of not life, but death
and one last cruel pitiful lesson
about uncountable gruesome worlds
with as many varieties as grains of sand,
for which we thank you, muy estimado.
© 2016 Rob Schackne
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