2 September 2004 | Vol. 4, No. 3
– the letter of discovery
It is both the depth of field and snow
that have shortened the telephone poles
by half or more.
The yellow flower boxes below the windows
are desultory with graying pea strings.
The many storied intersection
of river, limestone tunnel and rail bed
stand back from the birches
and collapsing roadhouse.
(Out of rime,
here, is his birthplace— this next time—
three miles from the Pennsylvania state line.)
He's the talented forward of a red blouse
and broken arc of gravity's javelin
rattling loudly inside the empty high school bleachers.
Hot chocolate, cheese sandwiches roasted
in seconds on a coal pan
inside the open furnace.
The girl Eileen for a mother,
she, looking into the fire-horse year
for a father, sees her brother
that June leaping sun share,
slyph share, into the cold emerald waters
of the abandoned quarry. William
with goldenrod for certificates
of birth and marriage.
William and the sudden rain
making a plentitude,
nipples rising across the surface of water.
A pale hip rolls up from the depth,
the floating hairline touches the quarry's lip.
About the author:
Norman Dubie's most recent collection of poems, Insomniac Liar of Topo, was just published by Copper Canyon Press. He lives in Arizona.
For further reading:
See the complete list of work by Norman Dubie at 42opus. Browse the contents of 42opus Vol. 4, No. 3, where "Tulku" ran on September 2, 2004. List other work with these same labels: poetry, editors' select.