Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy's Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota
-James Wright
Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
Blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
Down the ravine behind the empty house,
The cowbells follow one another
Into the distance of the afternoon.
To my right,
In a field of sunlight between two pines,
The droppings of last year’s horses
Blaze up into golden stones.
I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.
I have wasted my life.
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Next to my bed, I watch a fly flirt with the rim
Of the coffee cup, the dog sleeps at my feet,
And a breeze lulls through the window.
Downstairs the children rattle their breakfast
Plates, the T.V. shrills just above their voices,
Somewhere a door slams.
Above the dresser hangs a necklace on a nail,
Wrapped in a coat of light from the window.
Last year’s dust still layers the picture frames.
I prop myself up, pull the covers to my chest,
A daughter barges into the room for lunch money.
I have nothing but this life.
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1 comment:
That poem has such a memorable ending--it's probably his most famous poem--that it's difficult to imitate. I might suggest writing through that ending, not stopping it there. Up to that point, you don't risk sounding like his poem at all.
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