Thursday, February 09, 2012


For the first time I understand the old King of Troy
who wanted the body back: when I was young

I thought, what good is that? But it wasn't for good.
It was for anything, for the eyes and tongue

caked with dust, for the torn skin
that could not keep its brightness in.


marly youmans said...

Like that closure a lot, Dale, and the way the old King mourns the young and "I" remembers how he could not see what he now sees.

Dale said...

thanks, Marley! I think I'll play with splitting it into two poems.

Michelle CrowsFeet said...

Like this one too. I'll need to browse. I checked out your profile and was impressed. Not only at the fact it was long, but also entertaining and made me want to reply. My profile is one sentence. LOL I hate talking about me and struggled even with that one sentence. I might nick some of your profile ideas. They are very useful!

And I am still struggling with Northern Stars. I was born in Zimbabwe and grew up under a milky way that hung low and bright and a Sourthern Cross that will always hold my heart. I miss them still.