Poetic License

The poet’s job is to find a name for everything.

-Jane Kenyon

poetic

Laments

From the chapbook, “Shards,” by Mary Louise Cox

 

Sometimes in the morning

octaves of a flute

path my gray-green woods

moontoning

 

Buried sounds chase through me

locking mourning

into dream scales

of silver remembered

laments.

 

“In India the sound of Krishna’s flute is the magical cause of the birth of the world.”

 

Mary Louise Cox, poet laureate of the Town and Village of Mamaroneck