Night Theater

Meena Alexander

 

Snails circle
A shed where a child was born.

She bled into straw—
Who can write this?

Under Arcturus,
Rubble of light:

We have no words
For what is happening—

Still language endures
Celan said

As he stood in a torn
Green coat

Shivering a little,
In a night theater, in Bremen.

 
Copyright 2012 by Meena Alexander. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-A-Day on December 14, 2012. Browse the Poem-A-Day archive.

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