Poem: ‘Wildly Constant’
Anne Carson, 30 April 2009
Sky before dawn is blackish green. Perhaps a sign. I should learn more about signs.
Turning a corner to the harbour the wind hits me a punch in the face.
I always walk in the morning, I don’t know why anymore. Life is short.
My shadow goes before me. With its hood up it looks like a foghorn.
Ice on the road. Ice on the sidewalk. Nowhere to step.
It’s better to step where the...