A weekly poem, read by the author.
Dec. 28 2010 6:56 AM


Click the arrow on the audio player to hear Carl Phillips read this poem. You can also download the recording or subscribe to Slate's Poetry Podcast on iTunes.

Unafraid is what we were, I think, and then afraid,
though it mostly seemed otherwise.  I opened my eyes,
I saw, I closed, I shut them.
................................................The usual morning glories
twist up through banks of gone-wild-by-now holly;
crickets for song, morphos for their glamour, which
is quiet—blue, and quiet …

You: the dark that nothing, not even the light, displaces.
You, who have been the single leaf that
won't stop tossing,
among the others. 
For you.


Carl Phillips is the author of 11 books of poetry, including Double Shadow, forthcoming this spring. He teaches at Washington University in St. Louis.

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