Garnet Poems: An Anthology of Connecticut Poetry Since 1776

The Distances

170 gArnet poems The Distances I wait for the frontier dust to kick up, which is what dry snow first looks like in the artificial glare of the intersection, the porch of the Hill house like a saloon’s or hotel’s, before I let myself feel how forlorn the season is, kicked by wind, an occasional passing car, fewer walkers than ever, each year less, the contraction without which contrast is impossible. Such as my friend’s voice from Rome, all throat, the fullness of a life in my ear. It is her! It maintains consistency, identity, after bouncing off a copper-bound satellite, and can never fail to impress, no matter how tired or mysterious or wise it sounds, and it does, usually all these qualities at once, reconstituted in my ear, and I am such a young American again, shorn of all the intervening time. ...