Turning the Earth by Force

Turning the Earth by Force

 

He fell in the bed of leaves of last summer
And watched so gently, as she moved so softly
Above, dancing circles in an autumn sun.
A woman not formed of the earth in splendor,
For the earth in its splendor formed only one.
That her delicate limbs, moving as the waves
Reach for the vaporous land, seemed to long
For a resting place in these delicate hands.

He had seen her, in his soul’s sonorous sleep,
And saw as she moved across a deep blue sky,
That she spoke, with a twist and turn of her feet,
The words of purity and of love’s cold heat.
Words that even when danced through the sky
Splintered the earth with celestial moans.

And if she ceased to dance, so too would the wind
Push whispered fragments across shallow walls
Of distant lovers. No longer would the trees
Breath long barbaric breaths with deep sickled mouths.
Image, she flickers and cavorts with the clouds,
Of all Elysian beauty, she dances
As if to dance were to protect the heavens
And to stop was to condemn all below.

 

Further  Reading

Fifteen Children,” a poem, and “On Stevensian Musicality: Three Variations,” a critical reflection, also by Jonah Freud.

 
Back to Top