Says the Wind
She’s got her eyes down. He’s got his head down as far as he can pull it into his scarf and burly coat.Their shoulders are pitched forward hard to cut through the city headwind. But there is no wind—. . .What we see of a wind is what we see of the world of things. Not wind but a chaffof pollen choking in that whirl. Muster of leaves above in the puffed-out ash. What she says—. . .What we cannot hear but see on each face. Now he’s walking ahead. Now he’s lostin a fluster of subway riders shoving up out of the sudden portal. Shh says the wind—. . .The soul of another lies in darkness. Now she is running and now she is callinginto the choppy pool of people. Everyone shoves into this wind. But there is no wind—This poem appears in the January 2025 print edition.
She’s got her eyes down.
He’s got his head down
as far as he can pull it into his scarf and burly coat.
Their shoulders are pitched forward hard to cut
through the city headwind. But there is no wind—
. . .
What we see of a wind is what we see
of the world of things. Not wind but a chaff
of pollen choking in that whirl. Muster of leaves
above in the puffed-out ash. What she says—
. . .
What we cannot hear but see on each face.
Now he’s walking ahead. Now he’s lost
in a fluster of subway riders shoving up
out of the sudden portal. Shh says the wind—
. . .
The soul of another lies in darkness.
Now she is running and now she is calling
into the choppy pool of people. Everyone
shoves into this wind. But there is no wind—
This poem appears in the January 2025 print edition.
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