Thou, this humid cloak at dusk, a blue Air flattened, smoldering the same Field for years. Oh, Thou—this hardened name For You not joyously sprung, not grown to grace Out of me: how to instill a tint Of silver out from ash, a trace Out, out from my cramped cell. Renew our life, oh Thou! Wake, rise and glint In me like extended wings slick with dew. Be the pulse driven from a broken shell.
Robert Manaster’s poetry has appeared in numerous publications. He lives in Champaign, Ill.
Image: Shell on the beach, Jerry Sharp / Shutterstock.com
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