Little Blessing for My Floater
After George Herbert
This tiny ruin in my eye, small
flaw in the fabric, little speck
of blood in the egg, deep chip
in the windshield, north star,
polestar, floater that doesn't
float, spot where my hand is not,
even when I'm looking at my hand,
little piton that nails every rock
I see, no matter if the picture
turns to sand, or sand to sea,
I embrace you, piece of absence
that reminds me what I will be,
all dark some day unless God
rescues me, oh speck
that might teach me yet to see.
Jeanne Murray Walker is a poet, playwright, and professor of English at the University of Delaware.
From Helping the Morning: New and Selected Poems (Word Farm Press, 2014). Used with permission.
- Editor's Note from February 18, 2016
Issue 42: A surprise DNA test, an unexpected power plant, and a breakthrough chirp. /
- Around the World in 46 Chromosomes
I expected to discover myself in my DNA test. But I found us all. /
- Why Solar Power Might Get a Lot More Green
It turns out that Popeye was right all along. /
- Music of the Spheres
When scientists detected gravitational waves, “astronomy grew ears.” /
- Wonder on the Web
Issue 42: Links to amazing stuff.