, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,


A Rondeau

There’s a poem like a koan
that refuses to be known
at the edges of my dreaming
like a palimpsest revealing
shades of doubt erased and shown

between the traces finely combed
a certainty poetic that is home
& hearth to all I’m feeling, there’s a poem

in moments when I think that I’m alone
it overturns illusions I’ve outgrown
and pulls from them a reckoning
deliberately sublime, and chiming
harmony atoned, there’s a poem.


© Elaine Stirling, 2013