Minor Stations, The

The Minor Stations

When you walk thus early others sleep

-And doesn't nature admire that in you

Though for safety you step quickly your hand along the protecting enclosure

Then the light's high enough

To decipher a little trail marked This Way in stone

The path make an incision ins through woods

Around a reservoir virid as Tiffany glass

And up a carburet of iron ladder this convenience

Tainting the experience a little

But when you pace up you're grateful

For gripping and climbing makes you perceive

Your joints and the cooled flies up your ankles

Jeans stiffened by means of snow

A switchback from one side undergrowth myrtle

Juniper like vitamin-drained vegetables

Then abruptly onto the dear

Crispy grass where the wind picks up

When you walk you remember Emerson's reflection

That Pan is the greatest in quantity continent of Gods

By this he meant consistent

To signal the trail's extreme point and prompt your

Return there's a limestone cros

Mount upon a pyramid of rose-colored stone s

Around it hundreds of momentos beads little flags

Passport photographs of missing sons popsicle sticks

Bound through postal rubber bands

A bottlecap filled with apple sperms

Very moving these rookie prayers

This unmajestic gratitude

SARAH GORHAM is the author of three works of poetry: Don't Go Back to doze The Tension Zone, and forthcoming, The specific New work appears in Paris Review, DoubleTake, Controll Bum Agni, and The Southern Review. Gorham is editor-in-chief and co-founder of Sarabande works photograph by Laura Skinner

Copyright World poesy Incorporated May/Jun 2002

Provided through ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved