Here in the creak and the dark,
Take heart and mouth your clouds:
Be it ever so ice-locked,
Youre ringed by maple woods.
Let that be your pure thought
Here in the numb and the gloom:
The sap will answer the knock,
The taproot calls up the stem.
Hunker and let your heart feast
Here in the stark and the bleak:
No word need cross your lips,
There is no switch to throw,
Be it ever so bone-wracked,
One mild snap primes the flow.
Here in the stammer and shiver,
Let this cast your lot:
In all the leafless hollows
The fuse is already lit,
If the mercurys a blood-drop,
The pressures building up . . .
Be it ever so dumbstruck
Here in the grip of the grim,
Sweet is the open secret
Here on the tip of your tongue.
David Barbers latest collection of poems is Wonder Cabinet (TriQuarterly)
more from this author
This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 24 February 2006, on page 30
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