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“What can I do with this silence, the sovereignty”

What can I do with this silence, the sovereignty

expressed in the cantankerous absence of mass

five? Whose clock now rhymes with that of the hummingbird,

engaged with bee balm, three bells gone, literati

of a summer afternoon? Forget that first word,

the Ovidian ratio that ought to pass

through the body’s self-liberation, and then turn

through its own degradation. How extravagant

I have become, a mark on a printed page, such stern

evidence of structure, yet nothing consonant,

nothing given by a rule so inelegant.

from Disorientations: GroundlingsFind more by Jay Wright at the library

Copyright © 2013 Jay Wright
Used with the permission of Flood Editions.

Published in Jay Wright 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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