Ross: Children of the Ghetto
Love, we were young once, and ran races
over rough ground in our best shiny shoes,
we kicked at stones, we fell over, pulled faces.
Our knees were filthy with our secret places,
with rituals and ranks, with strategy and ruse.
Love, we were young once and ran races
to determine the most rudimentary of graces
such as strength and speed and the ability to bruise.
These lines from one of George Szirtes' eight photograph poems featured in the February 2008 issue of Poetry.
1 comment:
"Because we forget how beauty was once itself
and nothing else, how it held its stellar
moment in attic and cellar."
that one was my favorite
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