Poem Without a Subject
Often I am standing on the bank of a river.
The water is low.
There is no moon to speak of.
I call it the river of clear afternoon.
The grass is shirred with violets.
The lines of the poem are so plain
you could pour water through them.
I know she’ll come to the door,
knock lightly, then whisper
Patricia Kilpatrick, "Poem Without a Subject" from Blood Moon. Copyright © 2020 by Patricia Kilpatrick. Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of Milkweed Editions, www.milkweed.org.