Thursday, July 31, 2008


A poem by Maxine Kumin. I'm not entirely sure what it all means, and Kumin herself admits that some of her poetry mystifies her. She also has said that the best poems take years to understand.

by Maxine W. Kumin

The water closing
over us and the
going down is all.
Gills are given.
We convert in a
town of broken hulls
and green doubloons.
O you dead pirates
hear us! There is
no salvage. All
you know is the color
of warm caramel. All
is salt. See how
our eyes have migrated
to the uphill side?
Now we are new round
mouths and no spines
letting the water cover.
It happens over
and over, me in
your body and you
in mine.

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