NAIL Poem by Jan Wagner

scarcely in the wall, he was the center,
expanding its radius
across the gardens, fields, beet briar
and further, to the henhouses, the radish-

patch, becoming more worldy, all-encompassing:
we hung up the hats. we hung up cardigans
and picture frames, hung coats, umbrellas,
until we almost forgot him, whose hard gaze

will be still there, when we have long since moved away
and house and street and town
have vanished - so undeterredly

far, so lustrous, so above the east and west
that one could navigate through darkness
by him, offering old sailors consolation.