Delphine

American Poetry Review, The, Jan/Feb 2001 by Martin, Carl

Your surrender's enormous,

Like the wolves' natural kennel, yet

You're tight-fisted, strong feet nimble

And calm. The tree's trunk is prescient,

And the water foretells, dependent on you,

Your wraith of a face. The ting of the air:

Rare, more select than a clock's bouncing tine,

City or country, angry leaf & light.

In your side view mirror, the moth of refraction.

Time will tell, gravely, the ceremonial "much."

The party can wait; the show creeps on.