|
They are so beautiful, and so very young
they seem almost to glitter with perfection,
these creatures that I briefly move among.
I never get to stay with them for long,
but even so, I view them with affection:
they are so beautiful, and so very young.
Poised or clumsy, placid or high-strung,
they're expert in the art of introspection,
these creatures that I briefly move among—
And if their words don't quite trip off the tongue
consistently, with just the right inflection,
they remain beautiful. And very young.
Still, I have to tell myself it's wrong
to think of them as anything but fiction,
these creatures that I briefly move among—
Because, like me, they're traveling headlong
in that familiar, vertical direction
that coarsens beautiful, blackmails young,
and turns to phantoms those I move among.
Originally printed in Poetry magazine.
© 2002 by Marilyn Taylor. Used with the author’s permission.
|
