under a lethal spell, a king
wracked by fevers, a girl
who sleeps all day, unreachable
in her tower. Nothing can grow,
or everything keeps the same
way forever--- wheat always
just about to ripen, calving
animals caught in the throes
of pushing something new
at last into the world.
Reversal is what one
seeks to enact: all sleepers
awakening, the rivers sweet
and clear again; every stone
on the hillside just an ordinary
stone-- not someone whose heart
was so hardened on this threshing
floor called life, not even art-
less birdsong could move it.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.