Zorba's Daughter: poems

On Forgiving the Great Price

[27] O N F O RG I V I N G T H E G R E AT P R I C E Hope in shreds, a medal torn from a soldier’s chest. A book in the fire. Pearls whisper in their shells like the hush of rubber soles in corridors. Who will guide our hands to write between the lines? The face beneath the rubber mask hides still another face. A photo within a photograph. Stacking Russian dolls. Heart in a quiver, about to be fed to the bow. Tree for a target on some green mountain where a reed plays in a wind scattering sheet music. Wood of the cross, the god in the box set free. The blue and white world slips out of reach and the dark womb of the stars enfolds us for its own, a gown knitting itself about the sins of the fathers. ...