print previewback EDWARD MAYES
On Lines from Czesław Miłosz’s “Meaning”
What was incomprehensible will be comprehended
—Would you have understood house
If the final e had been pronounced,
Would that have been the scree of
Speech or the spree of speech, what were
You watching from the bleachers, what chain reaction?—Was it you who pleached the willow
Branches, arbor for all of us, shade for
The tea carts, teacup full of sorrow for
Something lost, sun so treacherous today,
Makes you underreact, saw, was, saw, was.—You called but whomever it was you called
Was unreachable, but we all have our right
To our own oblivion, another word for
Sleep, the worn daybed on the porch still wet
From dew, your kind of prison, wouldn’t you guess?