Christina Pugh


Twenty-Third - Poem by Christina Pugh

And at the picnic table under the ancient elms,
one of my parents turned to me and said:
“We hope you end up here,”
where the shade relieves the light, where we sit
in some beneficence—and I felt the shape of the finite
after my ether life: the ratio, in all dappling,
of dark to bright; and yet how brief my stay would be
under the trees, because the voice I’d heard
could not cradle me, could no longer keep me
in greenery; and I would have to say good-bye
again, make my way across the white
California sand and back: or am I now creating
the helplessness I heard those words express,
the psalm torn like a map in my hands?


Comments about Twenty-Third by Christina Pugh

  • Gold Star - 9,835 Points Heather Wilkins (8/2/2013 9:48:00 PM)

    a good write about life. enjoyed the read (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Rookie - 4 Points Martin O'Neill (3/19/2012 9:26:00 AM)

    Christina, your facility with language is a joy. I am so happy to have found your poems, they are rare gems here on PH. (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Monday, March 19, 2012



[Hata Bildir]