by Franz Wright
My life is so strange now, though I’ve come to love
this southern ghost place: the weather here
in January somewhat like the silver not-at-all-
cold light of Boston’s March-and I hear there is snow
blowing over from Tulsa today, maybe
later this afternoon. My houseless life
here is so blessed, through scary hours
and of course long months of my Elizabethlessness:
I am very afraid but still know You
are taking care of me, and even live in hope
You will one day see fit to put into my mouth
words that will explain it all, floating before me in letters
of fire, the planet and her
sleeping face beginning
out of nothing to be made
visible once more.
-from God’s Silence
