P oetry R epair S hop 1999.09:103
- CONTEMPORARY INTERNATIONAL POETRY
- by new, emerging, and established poets

DAVID BISHOP
Seven September
 
September is without instinct,
a hero without dreams.
 
Maybe if it were October
I would have a dream
greater than survival.
Be eager as a virgin son.
Climb up on the shoulder of the prairie
and strain my eyes to see the arctic.
Blow like pollen across the tundra.
 
There's no gentleness left -
no transition.
No God
when the DOW goes up
a hundred points a day,
and there's no stopping it.
And no one remembers October.
 
I am ready
for the absolution of the snow,
the clean, white cloth of Mary
swelled with innocence.

Poem copyright 1999; all rights reserved. (If you wish to copy this poem, please contact its AUTHOR).