Carol Snow

News Of: Codicils - Poem by Carol Snow

Too many things

one must know -- so many --

a place on the breath for each? each passing?
(its turning -- breath's inmost
turning, my Love --

for delight -- )

And another

'massacre of the innocents.'

And that there is a form
even for that.


Breath as

tidal -- ardor... fervor... horror... as moon --


What comfort?


There was a moment

of blessing, calm.
Though it was a pause, a hiatus.


'... then what felt like a whirlwind

had risen up
in me, such that

little was spared.'


News of

the unbearable, happening.

Breath saying Now, now.

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Poem Submitted: Friday, March 9, 2012

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