Three poems by Denise Levertov
Living
The fire in leaf and grass
so green it seems
each summer the last summer.
The wind blowing, the leaves
shivering in the sun,
each day the last day.
A red salamander
so cold and so
easy to catch, dreamily
moves his delicate feet
and long tail. I hold
my hand open for him to go.
Each minute the last minute.
Witness
Sometimes the mountain
is hidden from me in veils
of cloud, sometimes
I am hidden from the mountain
in veils of inattention, apathy, fatigue,
when I forget or refuse to go
down to the shore or a few yards
up the road, on a clear day,
to reconfirm
that witnessing presence.
Eye Mask
In this dark I rest,
unready for the light which dawns
day after day,
eager to be shared.
Black silk, shelter me.
I need
more of the night before I open
eyes and heart
to illumination. I must still
grow in dark like a root
not ready, not ready at all.
In my younger years (ha ha), I loved Denise Levertov’s poetry. Lately, I’ve been returning to some of my old haunts to see what I can draw from them, what connected me to them. I think I loved her for the bare language and her sense of enjambment. Aren’t those wonderful line breaks?
-S
