Apocalypse Now? No, Okay Then: Poetry Podcast Episode 6

by The Versed

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In this episode of The Versed, Nora & Rachel Discuss "At the End of This Text, A Small Bestial Form" by Laura Kasischke, "Snow" by Anne Sexton, and the apocalypse.

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At the End of the Text, A Small Bestial Form
by Laura Kasischke

This is the glimpse of the god you were never supposed to get.
Like the fox slipping into the thicket.
Like the thief in the night outside the window. The cool
gray dorsal fin in the distance. Invisible
mountain briefly visible through the mist
formed of love and guilt.
And the stranger’s face hidden in the family picture. The one
imagining her freedom, like
the butterfly blown against the fence
in her best yellow dress
by the softest breeze of summer:
To have loved
and to have suffered. To have waited
for nothing, and for nothing to have come.
And the water like sleek black fur combed back that afternoon:
The young lovers rowed a boat. The boy
reeled in a fish. The husband
smiled, raising a toast.
While the children grew anxious
for dinner. While something
struggled under the water bound by ropes.
And the warm milk dribbled down the sick man’s chin.
And the wife, the mother, the daughter, the hostess, and those
few people on earth she would
ever wish were dead
were the ones she loved the most.


Snow
by Anne Sexton

Snow,
blessed snow,
comes out of the sky
like bleached flies.
The ground is no longer naked.
The ground has on its clothes.
The trees poke out of sheets
and each branch wears the sock of God.

There is hope.
There is hope everywhere.
I bite it.
Someone once said:
Don't bite till you know
if it's bread or stone.
What I bite is all bread,
rising, yeasty as a cloud.

There is hope.
There is hope everywhere.
Today God gives milk
and I have the pail.

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released December 21, 2012

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