Adrienne Rich





Confrontations

It’s not new, this condition, just for awhile
        kept deep
in the cortex of things imagined

Now the imagination comes of age

I see ourselves, full-lipped, blood-flushed
in cold air, still conflicted, still
        embraced

boarding the uncharter’d bus of vanishment

backward glances over and done
afterimages
swirl and dissolve along a shoal of footprints

Simple ghouls flitter already among our leavings
fixing labels in their strange language
                                                            But
        up to now we’re not debris
(only to their fascinated eyes)


spoken = Heather C. Liston