Scrape the sun from the wall of the sky.
Cast the great nets of autumn over the houses.
Even the throat of the lily is a dangerous inlet.
Let the world stand wearily on the stoop of the jail
of the world and the light of the mind, that small lamp,
pearl of shine, let the night come to it, as iron filings to a magnet,
mother.
Source: Poetry (February 2008).
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This poem originally appeared in the February 2008 issue of Poetry magazine
Lynn Emanuel is the author of several volumes of poetry. She sees her Hotel Fiesta (1984), The Dig (1992), and Then, Suddenly— (1999) as a triptych exploring the convention and flexibility of the book, and the agency of readers and writers. As poet Eavan Boland notes, “Lynn Emanuel’s poems have a rare power: they connect to the world through estrangement.”
The Dig received the National Poetry Series Award. Emanuel’s work has . . .
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