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Category: Srikanth Reddy

Voyager, Book 3 (Chapter 6)

My   my

Archbishop A

with his deteriorating wing

regarded the world.

I visited the spirit

there in his august palace.

He complained about the heat

and asked if I would mind

if he took his mitre off.

I agreed and took off my coat.

Whether he really believed

is difficult to say…

Certainly life

burned inside him.

He had composed a few lines

in Greek,

insisting it was only a draft.

My shaky work he called it,

but I had to admire the line

There   there.

In Greek I repeated it.

He would look

into the blue overhead

from this private chamber

and praise his own words

with no intention

whatsoever to stop.

Very little could be done,

so I took it upon myself

as cautiously as possible

to cross that phantom out thus

Archbishop A

and took the chair

there   there

in disrepair.

There was an eerie silence

at the table.

I tried making

stone men to continue

the discussion.

As evening progressed,

the men unbent—


edging closer

Good   good…

We spent hours discussing forms.

One had a map of the real

that we later published

in the Times in Latin.

One opened a little clock

and said Freedom.


we opened my will

over August wine

poured into new bottles

as one asked

Why don’t you smile?

I smiled, and set my spade by.

from Poetry Northwest 05.1 Spring & Summer 2010More by Srikanth Reddy from the library

Copyright © Srikanth Reddy
Used with the permission of the author
on behalf of Poetry Northwest.

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.