You will never in this body

Peter Grandbois

 

The rain swells in the night        like the buzzing
The rain swells            in the night like the buzzing
Of bees the ground soaking up             so much water
Of bees             the ground soaking up so much water
The million-tongued night sounds        through the window
Seeping through            the down of your mizzled pillow

The mouth drawn on the willow         that scratched
The mouth drawn        on the willow that scratched
Against the pane whispered                 porous words
Against the pane         whispered porous words
The history of silence            is written
In brambles                springing up among the stones

The rain started again in the space        between
The rain started           again in the space between
Listen you will never              in this body
Listen            you will never in this body
Soak up so much of this leaf-             blown life
Trees loosening            their root-hold to write

The world disentangles and flows        through you
The world dis-             entangles and falls to you
Press your fingers against        the misted glass
Watch the drops        form when your fingers leave
The path along which we step             lives in you
Who will remain        silent or else cry out

 
 

Peter Grandbois is the author of thirteen books. His work has appeared in over one hundred journals. His plays have been performed in St. Louis, Columbus, Los Angeles, and New York. He is poetry editor at Boulevard and teaches at Denison University in Ohio.