by Carson McCullers
There was a time when stone was stone
And a face on the street was a finished face.
Between the Thing, myself and God alone
There was an instant symmetry.
Since you have altered all my world this trinity is twisted:
Stone is not stone
And faces like the fractioned characters in dreams are incomplete
Until in the child's inchoate face
I recognize your exiled eyes.
The soldier climbs the glaring stair leaving your shadow.
Tonight, this torn room sleeps
Beneath the starlight bent by you.
From:The Mortgaged Heart, ed. Margarita G. Smith. Boston - Houghton Mifflin Company
Copyright ©:1971, Carson McCullers
Last updated June 09, 2011