Elegy

By Joanna Klink

I saw you fall to the ground.

I saw the oaks fall. The clouds collapsed.

I saw a wildness twist through your limbs

and fly off. The river fell, the grasses fell.

The backs of six drowned cattle

rose to the surface ice—nothing moved.

But a wind touched my ankles when the snow began.

You left that night and we stayed,

our arms braced with weight. What power

there was was over. But I switched on the light

by the porch to see if anything was falling—

and it fell, a few glints in the air,

catching sun although there was no sun,

and the long descent over hours, all night,

seemed like years, and we buried our faces

in what came to rest on the ground

or moved our feet over it, effortless,

as nothing was in our lives, or ever will be.

Copyright Credit: Joanna Klink, "Elegy." Copyright © 2018 Joanna Klink. Used by permission of the author for PoetryNow, a partnership between the Poetry Foundation and the WFMT Radio Network.

Source: PoetryNow (2018)