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Land and Sea

By Suzanne QuallsPosted Wednesday, Aug. 1, 2001, at 3:00 AM ET

Individual suffering is ineffable, really.

Nobody ever comprehends it.

I touch your face, sleeping—

Its lines deepen with disappointment.

Your face, touched only when you are absent,

Its cloven sorrows apparent even in sleep—

How could love bring me to the brink?

You and I are married by sadness,

What you grant me day to day is willed.

I seek love governed by compassion,

Felt it, truly, part of every day—

Now I hate you in furlongs and fathoms

Unmeasured—

For the weakness that carved a crevice in your face.

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Suzanne Qualls lives in Boston.
Click here to visit Robert Pinsky's Favorite Poem Project site.To submit poetry to Slate, send up to five poems and a self-addressed, stamped envelope to: Robert Pinsky, Slate Magazine, Boston University, 236 Bay State Road Boston, Mass., 02215
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