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Hear the author read this poem (in RealAudio)
There is a barrier
that locks me in.
I must endure this sleep
until what seals me off
is burnt, frozen, exposed
to axe-blow, erosion, rain,
noon, twilight, starlight:
then I will flower,
everything in me—
triple-folded leaf
of the female organ
leaf-shoot of the male,
whorled together
like petals in bloom—
will be explained
as if by a voice:
now I must pass
unknown to myself
through the belly and gut
of the northbound sparrow.
National Portrait Gallery
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The Civil War
President Obama reflects on what Lincoln means to him and to America, in an introduction to our special issue. Read more › |
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Browse back issues of The Atlantic that have appeared on the Web. From September 1995 to the present, the archive is essentially complete, with the exception of a few articles, the online rights to which are held exclusively by the authors.
See All Back Issues: September 1995
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