Poetry
Lord of Having
By Christian Wiman
Lord of having
hell at hand
Lord of losing
what I have
this heaven now
may I move
in time
like a cloud
in sky
my torn form
the wind’s
one sign
may my suffering be
speechless
clarity
as of water
in some reach
of rock
it would take
work
to ascend
and see
and may my hands
my eyes
the very nub
of my tongue
be scrubbed
out of this hour
if I should utter
the dirty word
eternity
Christian Wiman is the editor of Poetry. His next collection of poetry, Every Riven Thing, will be published this fall by Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
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