Carol Frost


 


Apiary VX

 

To live without memory is to have each hour

as a pane of air for canvas and the view from a window

to paint: amber-honey cold mornings:

humbled by evening: variation and variation

of ambiguous figments—ziggurat beehive

auroras—flicker and go out:: All history

may as well be in these brushstrokes:

the hand has not rested nor the paint dried.

Before they pull curtains to the sill. . .

Mother show us if you know what radiance

remains: river: your river beneath glacial stone.




© 2008 Electronic Poetry Review