Silent Letter Poem by Katha Pollitt
Silent Letter
It's what you don't hear
that says struggle
as in wrath and wrack
and wrong and wrench and wrangle.
The noiseless wriggle
of a hooked worm
might be a shiver of pleasure
not a slow writhing
on a scythe from nowhere.
So too the seeming leisure
of a girl alone in her blue
bedroom late at night
who stares at the bitten
end of her pen
and wonders how to write
so that what she writes
stays written.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 11:54:37 AM # 1.0.0.1119
