Spring 2006 • Vol. XXVIII No. 2 Poetry |

Le Sancerre: September

September morning schemes of the possible:the open sky, the late japonica, the blue day.Noon approaches on the interplayof what's imagined, what's forgotten, willstay in the focus of a gaze that's stillfixed forward. There's an afterwards, to saythe rest, to mingle meanings. Let me staywhere I am, on the arc, in the break of the interval.It rained enough through August that the treesin the square touch a green cusp of clarity;there's still tousled lavender near the duck pond.The stout proprietor of the caféputs tables out for lunch on the bare ground—the beach beneath the torn-up paving stones. The beach beneath the torn-up paving stonespresents itself as facile metaphor:desire beneath betrayal's scab. Not scaryet, not yet completely overgrownwith some kind of impenetrable skinrebarbative in aspect, not made forcaresses, nerveless. This is something tempor-ary; what's underneath will, in its owntime emerge: abrasive, maybe, smoothperhaps, responsive to the touch, who knows?Noo

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Marilyn Hacker is the author of twelve books of poems, most recently Names (W.W. Norton 2010), and of ten collections of poetry translated from French. She received the PEN Award for Poetry in Translation in 2009 for Marie Etienne’s King of a Hundred Horsemen. She is a chancellor of the Academy of American Poets and a former editor of The Kenyon Review.

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