“Some Clouds” by Steve Kowit
Poetry 180: A Poem a Day for American High Schools, Hosted by Billy Collins, U.S. Poet Laureate, 2001-2003
Now that I've unplugged the phone, no one can reach me- At least for this one afternoon they will have to get by without my advice or opinion. Now nobody else is going to call & ask in a tentative voice if I haven't yet heard that she's dead, that woman I once loved- nothing but ashes scattered over a city that barely itself any longer exists. Yes, thank you, I've heard. It had been too lovely a morning. That in itself should have warned me. The sun lit up the tangerines & the blazing poinsettias like so many candles. For one afternoon they will have to forgive me. I am busy watching things happen again that happened a long time ago. as I lean back in Josephine's lawnchair under a sky of incredible blue, broken - if that is the word for it - by a few billowing clouds, all white & unspeakably lovely, drifting out of one nothingness into another.
from Mysteries of the Body, 1994
Copyright 1991 by Steve Kowit.
All rights reserved.
Reprinted by permission of Uroboros Books from Mysteries of the Body. Copyright 1991 by Steve Kowit. For further permissions information, contact Steve Kowit, P.O. Box 184, Potrero, CA 91963, phone/fax 619-478-2129, firstname.lastname@example.org.
About the Poet
Steve Kowit (1938-2015) was a poet, essayist, teacher, and workshop facilitator. Kowit was born in Brooklyn in 1938. Kowit is the author of thirteen poetry collections, including Cherish: New and Selected Poems (University of Tampa Press, 2015).
Learn more about Steve Kowit.