J A N U A R Y 1 9 9 9
HARPOby Susan Donnelly
Hear Susan Donnelly read this poem (in RealAudio).
(For help, see a note about the audio.)
Return to "Fan Letters," a poetry anthology, in the January, 1999, issue.
Also by Susan Donnelly:
The Third-Prize Photograph (2000)
That's right. When words don't say it,
stop talking. Become beautiful and strange.
The one of sudden arrivals,
announced by a horn.
A faun, seen between trees.
Pluck your thin music, your eyes
getting rounder, face changing
like clouds. And when lies
don't work, even silent ones,
get caught silver-handed,
with everything tucked up your sleeve.
Susan Donnelly is a poet whose work has appeared in The Norton Introduction to Poetry. Her book Eve Names the Animals (1985) was awarded the Samuel French Morse Poetry Prize by Northeastern University.
Copyright © 1999 by The Atlantic Monthly Company. All rights reserved.
The Atlantic Monthly; January 1999; Harpo; Volume 283, No. 1; page 57.