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This Day
DANIEL HOFFMAN
DANIEL HOFFMAN
THIS DAY
Under what stone
Have you curled your snail's-horn while my blood
Ebbs down
To dead level
And feet crunch empty shells?
Dullard imagination, hiding
Your ecstasies from me,
Your curious tongue
Silenced,
Dry,
-T'll get by
In the light of this
Evacuated day,
TU pick flat stones to scale
On the dead
Flatness of the sea
Until the one that hides you looses
Rings in rings
Spreading wider, nearer,
Long wet tongues to lick and lick
The silence of the shore.
That will awaken you.
This day
Shall yet be vivid in the ballads
You will arise to improvise,
Those auguries as irreversible
As the waves that set you free.