Click here to listen to James Longenbach read this poem. As a young man I was blessed with a body not Of great strength But very agile. Bright
Complexion, neither
Dark nor fair.
My torso, thin
From the start, grew
Wiry as I ran.
The pleasure
I derived from straightening
My room I
Never learned to will.
I feel it now.
In time,
Without trying,
I found a rhythm
Of thought ineffably
Hesitant, serene. Clouds
From the invisible
Mountaintops,
Then mist.
Rain soaked the ground
Until it swelled,
Lifting
My body
Flat on its back.
Delicate fingers,
Voice fair.
In the end
I found myself drawn
To what was neither very large
Nor very small.
In heaven,
If you say the word death,
Nobody understands.
