I walk these clean sub-
urban streets twice a day but
not without concern.
Even city streets
I’ve known block by block were not
lacking in roadkill,
a category
of beauty canonized by
the best museums.
But if not art, it’s
a sign of what we forget:
we are all mortal.
And there’s beauty there
if, as it seems, beauty flows
as eternity
through us. Once I moved
a dead possum from Prospect
Street in Providence
to an old garden.
Sun and snow and rain joined me
in not forgetting.
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related
Author: Tom D'Evelyn
Tom D'Evelyn is a private editor and writing tutor in Cranston RI and, thanks to the web, across the US and in the UK. He can be reached at tom.develyn@comcast.net. D'Evelyn has a PhD in Comparative Literature from UC Berkeley. Before retiring he held positions at The Christian Science Monitor, Harvard University Press, Boston University and Brown University. He ran a literary agency for ten years, publishing books by Leonard Nathan and Arthur Quinn, among others. Before moving to Portland OR he was managing editor at Single Island Press, Portsmouth NH. He blogs at http://tdevelyn.com and other sites.
View all posts by Tom D'Evelyn
Metaxyturn Diaries 