I cannot hold such emptiness
—the only meaning, the meaning
we make & the way time tugs
the body down, the body named
bone, named brain, the color
of dust & tremor, the soft meat
& the bag it lives in. We beg
from the body; it shivers &
spits—we settle for desire, in-
commensurate sorrow, for a life
like too much water, shallow & wide,
for enough salt to make a little sea.
Renée Ashley, USA (1947 -)
from The View from the Body. Copyright © 2016 by Renée Ashley. Reprinted by permission of Black Lawrence Press.
Poet’s website: http://reneeashley.com/
To buy The View from the Body: https://www.amazon.com/View-Body-Renee-Ashley/dp/1625579551