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Atlas of My Days to Li-Young Lee’s “Book of My Nights” 1. Mornings of Madness There is no glow, no song, nor summer but pain but pain in this silent fissure where none dwells. No seasons return to color the leaves. But leaves, they fall—but lovers, they fall— they fall till movement no more makes one get up time after time to the joys, distilled. 2. Daylight, Drab Father of ethical duty haunts the days—enslaving the feeble. Salivating dogs respond to curdling blood rising to the surface. They fight, still fight in the killing fields of each century, of each country, concomitant cries of a soul—spirits, dispersed— wings, clipped. You would think it was nightfall. 3. Earnest Evening It is worse to want the mornings to come faster between life’s breath, birth and death— the reason, none. To lie awake while your lover sleeps clueless to unforeseeable years. Love, overturned to unreturned giving in slow, squalid succession. Going now. Sleep, give way. ~by Cristina Querrer, 2002 http://communties.msn.com/mschrisandall |
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