J E R R Y  H A R P

Life Together

from Gatherings

The drink is bitter, and the root is sharp,

Dug from the woods out back, then boiled

All afternoon into an acrid tea

We take with vegetables and dark bread.

"My one companion is darkness," you say.

Night comes down like a final thumb.

Seems everything keeps beginning all over.

Like a terrier I chase down flies

Tapping against the windowpanes.

Crows unsettle the trees,

Their murderous cries unwinding

The light - obsessive revisions of the script.

The days roll out like dice,

And cars go drifting by like days.

Listen, there's a sound in the wind,

A squealing pulley hoisting up

The beginnings of another scene.

Back to Poetry