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Short poem

Rosemary Sullivan (1947-)


              1The way, in a rainstorm, the sky
              2descends in sudden violence,
              3flooding the sluices of the overhead passes
              4and tumbling to the road in falls
              5of water, and we wait at the side of the road
              6filling the space with the hot breath
              7of our panic, until the violence
              8has passed and we can proceed
              9in the dark, the tears of night
            10blinding our windshield
            11only a little less.
            12There has been too much blood
            13on the walls of my room where I gathered
            14your body and placed it in the ambulance and you climbed up
            15whatever fantasy could save you
            16back into life.
            17All that still-born anguish.
            18She tied her bundle quickly and left.
            19We have all closed doors
            20on that terrible pain and joined the circus
            21of the lady contortionist. Runaways,
            22we pray, day after day,
            23to the god of lost children,
            24Save us.

Online text copyright © 2004, Ian Lancashire for the Department of English, University of Toronto.
This poem cannot be published anywhere without the written consent of Rosemary Sullivan or Black Moss Press permissions department.
Published by the Web Development Group, Information Technology Services, University of Toronto Libraries.

Original text: The Bone Ladder (Windsor, Ontario: Black Moss Press, 2000): no. 5. PS 8587 .U52 B6 Robarts Library
RPO poem editor: Ian Lancashire
RP edition: 2004
Recent editing: 1:2004/7/15

Other poems by Rosemary Sullivan