The poem, I’ve always felt, is an opportunity for me to create an integrated whole from so many broken shards --Rafael Campo
Friday, September 28, 2012
In the Next Galaxy
By Ruth Stone
Things will be different.
No one will lose their sight,
their hearing, their gallbladder.
It will be all Catskills with brand
new wrap-around verandas.
The idea of Hitler will not
have vibrated yet.
While back here,
they are still cleaning out
pockets of wrinkled
Nazis hiding in Argentina.
But in the next galaxy,
certain planets will have true
blue skies and drinking water.
Labels:
Ruth Stone
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment
If you include links in your comment the whole comment will likely be deleted as spam. You have been warned! Otherwise, dialoguing with these poems is encouraged.