04-07-2020, 04:52 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-07-2020, 04:52 PM by RiverNotch.)
XII
What is it then between us?
What is the count of hundreds
of corpses between us? Ladybug
spotted shield hung by a joint
on the upper left corner.
Loose wing of a moth, now bare
the film that held the vivid
scales. The butt of a bee,
desperation the dart
long-since loosed and lost.
A cricket’s half-chewed thigh.
A cockroach’s breast, its arms
crossed in honor or in fear.
A fire ant’s head, glistening
ruby, jaws spread wide--
From "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" by Walt Whitman,
What is it then between us?
What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us?
Whatever it is, it avails not—distance avails not, and place avails not,
I too lived, Brooklyn of ample hills was mine,
I too walk’d the streets of Manhattan island, and bathed in the waters around it,
I too felt the curious abrupt questionings stir within me,
In the day among crowds of people sometimes they came upon me,
In my walks home late at night or as I lay in my bed they came upon me,
I too had been struck from the float forever held in solution,
I too had receiv’d identity by my body,
That I was I knew was of my body, and what I should be I knew I should be of my body.
What is it then between us?
What is the count of hundreds
of corpses between us? Ladybug
spotted shield hung by a joint
on the upper left corner.
Loose wing of a moth, now bare
the film that held the vivid
scales. The butt of a bee,
desperation the dart
long-since loosed and lost.
A cricket’s half-chewed thigh.
A cockroach’s breast, its arms
crossed in honor or in fear.
A fire ant’s head, glistening
ruby, jaws spread wide--
From "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" by Walt Whitman,
What is it then between us?
What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us?
Whatever it is, it avails not—distance avails not, and place avails not,
I too lived, Brooklyn of ample hills was mine,
I too walk’d the streets of Manhattan island, and bathed in the waters around it,
I too felt the curious abrupt questionings stir within me,
In the day among crowds of people sometimes they came upon me,
In my walks home late at night or as I lay in my bed they came upon me,
I too had been struck from the float forever held in solution,
I too had receiv’d identity by my body,
That I was I knew was of my body, and what I should be I knew I should be of my body.