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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
He woke
each day
not knowing
which hour
would be
the worst,
then made
a grid
of language
out of ash --
learned not
to trust
his own
mother
tongue,
knowing
all along
how it
would turn
on him
in the end.
Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA
98368-0271, www.cc.press.org
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