They happened in us . . . But later we moved away -- Or they did. Went west. Went south to the goldfields. Disappeared somewhere beyond Salt Lake or Denver -- Their roads are still in the map of our flesh: Easy to get to almost any time Around midnight. But the land shifts and changes, the map Gets out of date, The century stretches its joints, And one day we stand by the marked tree and ask: WAS IT HERE WAS IT HERE While, stunned but tireless, Memory, the lodestone that always points toward pain, Hunts, slow and sluggish for its North, Turning through the thickening crystals of tired flesh That was pure honey, once. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE NEW APOCRYPHA: BUSINESS REVERSES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS OLD OSAWATOMIE by CARL SANDBURG IN SICKNESS (1714) by JONATHAN SWIFT SABBATH HYMN by SOLOMON BEN MOSES HA-LEVI ALKABEZ BUCK O' KINGWATTER by ROBERT ANDERSON OF CARLISLE GREENES FUNERALLS: SONNET 2 by RICHARD BARNFIELD |