Verse
Jacobsen, Josephine
Josephine Jacobsen Distance Distance is our quack doctor. I marvel at ants busily skirting their dead. and pigeons, chattily convening by a pigeon's body. Freedom from touch! cries something...
...In time, we were exact...
...I found a child's skin, breathing, wrapped over bones, a look straight from the pit, lying on my doorstep...
...over a sea, perhaps...
...My car-keys in my hand, stepped over it and while it still breathed, went straight into the bright here...
...together...
...It eludes their sense as though all theres were here...
...cries something envious...
...It was distant...
...It was not on my doorstep...
...I survive shame...
...Saints can't grasp distance...
...It shared my instant...
...Space held it...
...and feel distance gently gently as a priceless pain-killer locate, and disconnect, reality.nect, reality...
...Distance was all I needed from the ant...
Vol. 108 • October 1981 • No. 19
