October 15, 2010

Cold Spring in Winter

Pieces of work by Valerie Royzeau (translated by Susan wicks) found in the 2010 Griffin poetry prize anthology!



Stuck here in the ground not flinching

or thinking or anything.

And in the certian, final way of trees and

made of oak.

Like nothing nobody your life.

Snot-nosed in the goodbye hankies of my

dreams, suddenly put out.

Wind, nails.

We won't go mushrooming again the fog

has shallowed everything the white goats

and our baskets.

We won't be going to enourmous cities

either which are highly organized grey

whales our hearts would soon get lost.

Nor to the cinema or circus, the cafe-

concerts, the cycle races.

We won't go we'll not be going any more

no more than we won't go than we won't

laugh we won't be laughing any more than

we won't break up laughing.

And that makes two it's easy dad and

me it's easy.

I count on him to make my peace with

me.

Clouds go over us, toads croaking in the

distance singing much more sweetly than

they are.

My dad doesn't say a word the two of us

are here but I'm the only one to have the

wind blow through my hair and he's the

only one not opening his eyes.

And I show him with my finger where

the really puffed up song comes from of

toads but he's familiar with the fable.

Clouds go over us our time, especially

for me because I count them so.

My dad doesn't say a word we're

different my dad and me both of us left

stranded.

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