Sonnet 152

There was a brilliant bright light spreading
on the water contagious as fire but
just as I went to write about it it
wasn’t there anymore. For a whole month
in China I lugged all my stuff over
my shoulder until I tore the muscles.
Trying to write now is unbearable.
The cicadas sing. Does the wind bring them
or my own desire for them? Here comes
the light again moving along the stems
beyond my present reach and in the sweat
my beating heart brings in glistening drops
out of my skin. I’d forgotten. The pain
with every other care has gone away.

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