Christine Hume, p.1


Its law lights up a small, shaky globe
        that had been waiting to be black
                and all things fall opposite the flash

Several rains at once do corrupt us
        moths and rust affront us; someone leaves
                thunderstruck; an historian clutches her curious heart

A tear too--intellectual thing,
        terrible seed--charges its surplus upward
                a triumph of the quick over the good

Tall men stand by trying to help
        one calls down a shabby green light
                yea, he is my lover in the nineteenth remove

And a lover is always staying through
        a storm, until its scroll rolls back
                when I have finally fallen asleep

Until I tell you how the sun rose
        how before that how long held
                round my opening mouth will be

1. a small, shaky globe]my hand
4. at once], glass-baffled,
5. leaves]escapes
8. terrible seed] terrible seed on my tongue--
9.] the small rain down can rain
14. rolls back] whispers me my disaster
18.] low how could how awful you will be