A Poet Reflects

To Burn with a Low Blue Flame

There is a vessel.
You ask, and I give
Myself over.  I fill it,
Knowing the descent
To be what it will always
Be.  Knowing my heat
Is merely pretext
For what you’ll give
Yourself into
When my heat reaches you.
I am not
What you intend me to be.
I know nothing
Of what your body knows
When it seeks
To empty out of itself.
Nor what it seeks
To forget.  Or to fill.

—Tracy K. Smith, from Duende (Graywolf Press, 2007

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    There is a vessel. You ask, and I give Myself over. I fill it, Knowing the descent To be what it will always Be. Knowing...
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