(See other of her poems here for biographical background.) I collect stones from places visited - Delphi, Santorini, Block Island, Point Reyes, the castle where Richard the Lionhearted was held, a beach in Orkney... - so this poem has always had a special appeal.
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Gifts
Here. Between us I’ve placed a smooth stone,
green-veined, with finger-fissures, and a cracked
blue bowl with three yellow pears, and seven miles
of jagged coves, pebbled and bouldered, the jade sea
drooling and frothing them, one dwarfed tree,
a crooked surviving pine, on a tumbled cliff
lookout point. Hold the stone
in your palm, cold
from morning draughts on the window-sill.
The touched side takes your warmth. The cool
side rubs your lips. Your mouth
is on my hand.
Marilyn Hacker - American
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
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