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Of Contour, of Cadence

Resist, don’t: the difference between what one thinks

the magnolias say—branches applauding

some animal act below—and what

they actually say…nothing

between us can

we prepare for, only postpone. I’ve learned

to plead and to please, another difference.


Turn your face that way where light no more

transfigures you than darkness makes a need for

transfiguration. Yes, the scar above your eye.

Blood had dropped from the wound, a curtain.

But I believe we are, inside, all blue, you said.

Listen, neither we nor blue make sky.

The earth spins and we, utterly, are spun.

from Thief in the InteriorFind more by Phillip B. Williams at the library

Copyright © 2016 Phillip B. Williams
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of Alice James Books.

Published in Phillip B. Williams Poems

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.

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