Wavelet Poem by Rae Armantrout
Wavelet
About time
- receding, minced
like memory, flooding
paddies.
Each one a collated
cell, a frequency.
Here's their schtick:
off-Broadway bit parts
declaiming fury
to respective empty rooms.
We know what
they say. Heard
it, once, ago.
They sport. They
comfort. They limit.
They win it. They kept.
They're in your debt.
They're what you
thought. They're not.
Air repletes
- what else? -
a window.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/27/2026 11:42:45 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
