Collected Poems of Donald Justice by Donald Justice

Author:Donald Justice [Justice, Donald]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-51788-3
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2004-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Donald Justice is dead. One Sunday the sun came out,

It shone on the bay, it shone on the white buildings,

The cars moved down the street slowly as always, so many,

Some with their headlights on in spite of the sun,

And after a while the diggers with their shovels

Walked back to the graveside through the sunlight,

And one of them put his blade into the earth

To lift a few clods of dirt, the black marl of Miami,

And scattered the dirt, and spat,

Turning away abruptly, out of respect.

Poem

This poem is not addressed to you.

You may come into it briefly

But no one will find you here, no one.

You will have changed before the poem will.

Even while you sit there, unmovable,

You have begun to vanish. And it does not matter.

The poem will go on without you.

It has the spurious glamor of certain voids.

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