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.
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 firstname.lastname@example.org or (201) 670-9065
Karen Chase is the author of two volumes of poetry, including Bear: Poetry (CavanKerry Press, 2008).