print previewback EDWARD MAYES
On Lines from Czesław Miłosz’s “Meaning”
What never added up will add up
—It’s not that you were born with
A never mind—absolutely not—ever—
As if hell were more eternal than
Heaven, but this I know, no, that
The ginestra I used as a broom will bloom again?—Bundle of twigs, stout pole, tied
Tight with vinco, sweep what needs
Sweeping, “it’s the poor what gets
The blame,” rub the charred willow wands
On the blue wall, blackened words, how do they speak?—What you left, stays left, the névé,
The upper part of a glacier, all ice,
You always moved under your own weight, ghiaccio
Melting like the lód it is, wading into
The water like Virginia Woolf did, never.
ginestra: Italian for “broom”
vinco: Italian for “willow”
ghiaccio: Italian for “ice”
lód: Polish for “ice”