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Poetry Friday: somewhere i have never travelled by e.e. cummings

February 25th, 2011 (07:37 am)
thirsty

Current Mood: thirsty
Current Song: Without a Trace score music

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

- by e.e. cummings

This poem was brought to my attention by Cecilia Galante's novel The Sweetness of Salt. Thank you, Cecilia.

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