All you
have to lose
is one
connection
and the mind
uncouples
all the way back.
It seems
to have been
a train.
There seems
to have been
a track.
The things
that you
unpack
from the
abandoned cars
cannot sustain
life: a crate of
tractor axles,
for example,
a dozen dozen
clasp knives,
a hundred
bolts of satin—
perhaps you
specialized
more than
you imagined.
Kay Ryan, “A Hundred Bolts of Satin” from Say Uncle. Copyright © 2000 by Kay Ryan. Reprinted with the permission of Grove/Atlantic, Inc.
Source: A Hundred Bolts of Satin (2000)
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Poet
Kay Ryan
b. 1945
POET’S REGION
U.S., Western