Wednesday, November 10, 2010

fall leaves

Leaves falling now brought to mind this old poem:



GIFT FROM A GLASS GRAVE


I carry

Your book

From the library shelf

Anne Sexton

And walk down the aisle

Gripped by your line-drawn eyes

Staring

Through cellophane covering

Your Awful Rowing Towards God.


A shudder folds up my belly,

Gooseflesh dances my boundaries.

I am about to receive

Your presence—

These paper leaves

Ironed and inked,

Transformed from those we raked

Into outlined houses

Over the dead grass

Of childhood’s fall.




1983

June Eleanor Skalisky Kimmel Comarsh (Gillam)

2 comments:

  1. This is so elegant and clear: like the glass metaphor-. So moving June! I still recall you telling your class about the raking of leaves into the shapes of houses when you were a child.

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  2. Beautiful imagery! Love "gooseflesh dances my boundaries." & "staring through cellophane" -- I could almost feel the book in my hands!!

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