O C T O B E R   1 9 9 4

INWARD

Her eyes are staring inward
into a space as endless
as the distance from here to the mountains

she has forgotten. Between
those peaks and this high cave
lies the drowned valley floor where it happened:

whatever gave her the look
of a violated woman
or a bird that clings to a storm-struck mast

and made everything fade--
like being formed from clay and breathed
into life. Or a god's visitation.

Ruth Fainlight is a poet who lives in England. She is the author of many books, including Dr. Clock's Last Case and Other Stories (1994). Her poem in this issue is taken from her new collection, This Time of Year.