They are not angels
though they have the hollow look
of beings bred on ether. There’s an air
of cool removal from your life, the hawk’s
indifference to the hare’s terror.
You see it in their palms, raised casually
against the fresco’s surface, as to glass
of submarine or spacecraft, and you see
it in their eyes, oracular, that let you pass
alone to unknown agony. The song
they sing is merely time.
Source: Poetry (December 2005).
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This poem originally appeared in the December 2005 issue of Poetry magazine
Poet, playwright, and essayist Todd Hearon grew up in North Carolina. He received an MA in Irish studies from Boston College and a PhD in editorial studies from Boston University. Hearon’s lyric, sometimes formal poems are rich with allusion and historical reference even as they engage contemporary culture. In a 2007 interview for the Exeter Bulletin, Hearon noted, “I have been faced with the new artistic problem (new for me, . . .
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