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1164: Prayer | Marie Howe

Marie Howe

Someone or something is leaning close to me now
trying to tell me the one true story of my life:

one note,
low as a bass drum, beaten over and over:

It's beginning summer,
and the man I love has forgotten my smell

the cries I made when he touched me, and my laughter
when he picked me up

and carried me, still laughing, and laid me down,
among the scattered daffodils on the dining room table.

And Jane is dead,
                                              and I want to go where she went,
where my brother went,

and whoever it is that whispered to me

when I was a child in my father's bed is come back now:
and I can't stop hearing:
                                              This is the way it is,
the way it always was and will be --

beaten over and over -- panicking on street corners,
or crouched in the back of taxicabs,

afraid I'll cry out in jammed traffic, and no one will know me or
know where to bring me.

                                              There is, I almost remember,
another story:

It runs alongside this one like a brook inside a train.
The sparrows know it; the grass rises with it.

The wind moves through the highest tree branches without
seeming to hurt them.

Tell me.
Who was I when I used to call your name? 



( 6 comments — Leave a comment )
Apr. 29th, 2011 08:25 pm (UTC)
I love love love this poem, every time.
Apr. 29th, 2011 10:15 pm (UTC)
Marie Howe is just one of the best there is. Love it.
Apr. 30th, 2011 07:40 pm (UTC)
Does she have more than one poem with this title? I googled it and a different poem came up with the title "Prayer." Just curious.
Apr. 30th, 2011 07:41 pm (UTC)
Just wanted to add that this poem brought tears to my eyes.
May. 3rd, 2011 01:28 am (UTC)
When I was looking it up, I also found another poem with the title "Prayer" by her. So I guess there are two.
Apr. 30th, 2011 09:43 pm (UTC)
Lovely :)
( 6 comments — Leave a comment )


poetry, exceptindreams
a poem some days

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