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,
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