"Through a Glass Darkly"
Click the arrow on the audio player to hear Traci Brimhall read this poem. You can also download the recording or subscribe to Slate's Poetry Podcast on iTunes..
You counted days by their cold silences.
............At night, wolves and men with bleeding hands
colonized your dreams. The last time I visited,
............you said you trapped a dead woman in your room
who told you to starve yourself to make room for God,
............so I let them give your body enough electricity
to calm it. Don't be afraid. The future is not disguised
............as sleep. It is a tango. It is a waterfall between
two countries, the river that tried to drown you.
............It is a city where men speak a language
you can fake if you must. It's the hands of children
............thieving your empty pockets. It's bicycles
with bells ringing through the streets at midnight.
............Come up from the basement. It's not over.
Before the sun rises, moonlight on the trees.
............Before they tear the asylum down, joy.
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Traci Brimhall is the author of Our Lady of the Ruins and Rookery, as well as the recipient of 2013 Fellowship from the National Endowment for the Arts.
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