Poetry November 2011

Smoke

Plumes from two chimneys opposite the café
          mingle, become each other. I know
what the smoke says. I know that life is nothing
          but a brief wisp. For now, we’re together
shooting the breeze, intermingling like the smoke
          that is a white shawl over the shoulders
of the invisible goddess of the cold, keeping her warm.

Presented by

Greg Delanty’s recent books include Collected Poems 1986–2006 and the anthology The Word Exchange: Anglo-Saxon Poems in Translation (2010), co-edited with Michael Matto. He lives in Vermont.

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