When I look at the sky now, I look at it for you.
As if with enough attention, I could take it in for you.

With all the leaves gone almost from
the trees, I did not walk briskly through the field.

Late today with my dog Wool, I lay down in the upper field,
he panting and aged, me looking at the blue. Leaning

on him, I wondered how finite these lustered days seem
to you, A stand of hemlock across the lake catches

my eye. It will take a long time to know how it is
for you. Like a dog's lifetime—long—multiplied by sevens.

—Karen Chase

Rights & Access

From Kazimierz Square, 2000
CavanKerry Press, Fort Lee, N.J.

Copyright 2000 by Karen Chase.
All rights reserved.

Reprinted by permission of CavanKerry Press. Copyright 2000 by CavanKerry Press. For further permissions information, contact Florenz Greenberg at cavankerry@mindspring.com or (201) 670-9065

  • Karen Chase

    Karen Chase is the author of two volumes of poetry, including Bear: Poetry (CavanKerry Press, 2008).