Afterimage
Out of the comforting realm of the normal
And into some sphere of unconscious perfection,
Embodying differences not of degree
But of kind, was I startled by – what? God knows what,
But a form far too tapered and tall to be human,
A face far too calm, a contemplative angel’s
Unearthly serenity. Only a unicorn
Turned to a woman would hope to look so,
Nothing born of a woman. Whatever made her
Didn’t make me, or any of us. And myself
With no tinge of desire, no more than I’d taste
For a statue or sunset, save one choking passion:
O God! Why couldn’t you make me this being
That drains all the once-vivid world of its color
And renders what’s left dull and used, gross and heavy
And dark, leaving longing alone in the night
Like a dream of some holy or unholy grail,
Like a vision – not peace, but a sword – edged in light?
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Submitted on May 01, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 47 sec read
- 1 View
Quick analysis:
Scheme | XABX AXXX CXXA XCBD XD |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic hexameter |
Characters | 824 |
Words | 159 |
Stanzas | 5 |
Stanza Lengths | 4, 4, 4, 4, 2 |
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"Afterimage" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 13 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/65273/afterimage>.
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