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

  • Heather Wilkins (8/2/2013 9:48:00 PM)

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

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  • 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

    0 person liked.
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Poem Submitted: Monday, March 19, 2012



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