I

You are clear
O rose, cut in rock,
hard as the descent of hail.

I could scrape the colour   
from the petals
like spilt dye from a rock.

If I could break you   
I could break a tree.

If I could stir
I could break a tree—
I could break you.


II

O wind, rend open the heat,   
cut apart the heat,   
rend it to tatters.

Fruit cannot drop   
through this thick air—
fruit cannot fall into heat
that presses up and blunts
the points of pears   
and rounds the grapes.

Cut the heat—
plough through it,
turning it on either side   
of your path.
  • Source: Twentieth-Century American Poetry (2004)

Poet Bio

What People are Saying

"Performing a poem out loud of my choosing created this new and more personal connection to poetry for me. In addition, POL gave me the confidence that I never thought I had and it taught me that I could apply it everywhere I went. "
Cayla Turner
2018 MD POL Champ