print previewback EDWARD MAYES
On Lines from Czesław Miłosz’s “Meaning”
The other side, beyond bird, mountain, sunset
—Still, over here, where you can’t see
Anyone anymore, any longer, the less
Seen the better, you’ve always thought,
Wasn’t it the blackbird that flew off
The branch, not knowing where it was going, nor you?—You would often say the landscape hasn’t
Changed since the Renaissance, that you still
Mean well, up to and including the day
You’ll leave us staring at the ground covering
The grave, ground decoded, ground up . . .—When you sat down to do the long division
Of the cells, what did you find besides enlightenment,
Did you take sides at the forge, were you
Considering yourself the hammer, or would you
Be the anvil, the wreck of life waiting?