excerpt from "Tryptych at the Edge of Sight"
IX
We had gone so far, down past the ferns
dead and swaying in the shadow of a breeze,
down into a land half swamp, half ocean floor.
Fancying ourselves modern Greeks, we had descended
into the earth -- not to point out souls like Anchises,
but to point out lichens, mosses, molds, those classics
seldom studied anymore -- but our sense of direction
was terrible, and we had not summoned Virgil
or Edith Hamilton to guide us out of that other world.
The Second Person: Poems (Stahlecker Series Selection)
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