Myth
I was born scarcely before autumn full of night songs—
my screaming body a codex
of hurting. I tried to name first stars
and bird-shadows, prophecy of a greater tempest.
Later it was me supplying earth
her graves, leaves dying in a rainbow
of blossom, spiraling cadavers. On the playground
the last seasonal light firing over slides
and swing sets, those lost notes swirled
and lit my darkened throat.
Tweet
About the Author
Major Jackson, Associate Professor of English at University of Vermont and a faculty member of the Bennington Writing Seminars, is author of two collections of poetry, Hoops and Leaving Saturn. A third, Holding Company, is forthcoming in August.
Related Articles
Major Jackson,
Life During Wartime,
Michael Palmer,
four poems from Thread,
Ernest Farrés,
Hills, South Truro, 1930
Keep in touch with Boston Review
