BY JAN HAAG
MORNING
12-19-97
In the cacoon of my blankets
sleep creates its own warmth:
the sheets smooth like milk
direct from a cow's udder,
my legs stretching into the comforting
depths, at times even seeking
the traces of a lingering glacier
not melted in the night.
It's dawn and the world calls
softly, sweetly,
or loud with rain and fertility,
and yet the cacoon wraps me,
seduces me. Does the butterfly
long to remain a worm,
shedding its silk only reluctantly
to fly into the everlasting sky?
Copyright © 2000 Jan Haag
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Jan Haag may be reached via e-mail: jhaag@u.washington.edu
You, 12/19/97
Then, 12-20-97
Other, 12-21-97
The Cattle Have Diamond Bones
Feeding Frenzy
From The Jocasta Poems #15, Blindness
From The Jocasta Poems #16, Death
George Coluzzi
India
I Am Innuit
McDonald Observatory
Palimpsest I, Sphere
Ryoangi
Tibetan Chronicle
The Woman Who Had No Necklaces
BY JAN HAAG