Lisa Gluskin Stonestreet
De Profundis - Poem by Lisa Gluskin Stonestreet
out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord
—more like out of the middle, the soft
chewy center of here: the mailbox,
the toaster, the dentist office: I cry
to you, or to nothing, I whisper
and roll my eyes: Oh, lord.
O Lord. Forgive us
our dailiness, our lists of lists.
The gearshift work, the newspaper cutouts,
coupons and cashback in the slow lane.
Whiteboard, whiteout. Little yellow
notes everywhere like moths.
Oh, lord. Remember
us, here: the soft warm milky middle,
its erasing breath, its easy arms. Here
where we lie, mostly and meanwhile.
Comments about De Profundis by Lisa Gluskin Stonestreet
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
- TelevisionRoald Dahl