From Robert Bly's book, Morning Poems:
The Yellow Dot
God does what she wants. She has very large
Tractors. She lives at night in the sewing room
Doing stitchery. Then chunks of land at mid-
Sea disappear. The husband knows that his wife
Is still breathing. God has arranged the open
Grave. The grave is not what we want,
But to God it's a tiny hole, and he has
The needle, draws thread through it, and soon
A nice pattern appears. The husband cries,
"Don't let her die!" But God says, "I
Need a yellow dot here, near the mailbox."
The husband is angry. But the turbulent ocean
Is like a chicken scratching for seeds. It doesn't
Mean anything, and the chicken's claws will tear
A Rembrandt drawing if you put it down.
--in memory of Jane Kenyon--
...okay, folks. Time to start writing again.
Bly has such a wonderful sense of human presence in his work. What an ending-- Thanks for posting this.
ReplyDeleteI just recently realized how much I like Robert Bly. Thanks for posting this poem!
ReplyDeleteP.S. I absolutely love your poem "The Fish." It is currently living in my briefcase and I just can't take it out of there.
I haven't read this one. Thanks for posting it
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you all like this one--it was literally one of those poems that made me buy a book off the shelf.
ReplyDeleteMary, I'm thrilled The Fish found a home with the Rhino. Now that's a match made in some strange version of Eden...
Bly is uniquely broad in his talents (IMHO).
ReplyDeleteIt's a sweet flavor - that moment when one poem hits you hard enough to get you to buy the book off the shelf. Happened to me recently
with Ted Kooser and Birthday (which I posted about 5 posts back.)
Thanks for the comment about honor and your broadened readership.
It's been seven years since I first read this poem, it's always been a favorite. Funny, it wasn't until a day or so ago that I understood what the last line means: "...the chicken's claws will tear
ReplyDeleteA Rembrandt drawing if you put it down." Bly seems to be saying that no matter how precious anything is, even a loved one, in the end the nature of Nature is to destroy it.