by David Radavich
How could you surprise me
after all this time?
We know the routes,
the routines, even the names
of flowers and particular
birds that come
to chant in our woods,
the way time trickles
in a brook and the stones
scarcely notice
being worn
away like moss
in a storm.
Yet I don’t have a name
for this: how your voice pearls
with a friend, sun
slanting
after death,
the only time
we’ll ever know this
particular day
or why the war
brings home
casualties like words.
- Share this Poem:
ABOUT THE POET ~
David Radavich's recent poetry volumes include BY THE WAY (Buttonwood, 1998) and GREATEST HITS (Pudding House, 2000). His plays have been produced across the U.S., including six Off-Off-Broadway, and in Europe. AMERICA BOUND: AN EPIC FOR OUR TIME(Plain View, 2007) narrates U.S. history from World War II to the present through the eyes of everyday Americans, while CANONICALS (Finishing Line, 2009) investigates "love's hours." His latest work, MIDDLE-EAST MEZZE (Plain View, 2011), focuses on Iraq, Palestine, and Egypt.
Last updated September 16, 2011