Summer 1991 • Vol. XIII No. 3 PoetryJuly 1, 1991 |

Eschatology

Candor and clamor at the end of thingsGlares and rings in a grammar that givesEach word its place through clairvoyance. It is not the lure of a past, grayIn summer drizzle at its worst, the morning Poised at the gate, not exile from that garden That instills nostalgia and brooding,But the belief that joy will come, That joy is relief and not a homecoming. Although each sign, each cruelty, each promise Has led to here, the tick of the escapement And steady lunge and pause of the second hand Go on. The mockingbird's song and the lily, Fragmented and fragrant, respectively, fill The last days as they filled the first. 

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Eric Pankey is the author of many collections of poetry, most recently Not Yet Transfigured (Orison Books, 2021). A chapbook called The Future Perfect: A Fugue is forthcoming from Tupelo Press. Pankey is the Heritage Chair in Writing at George Mason University.

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By Eric Pankey

Candor and clamor at the end of thingsGlares and rings in a grammar that givesEach word its place through clairvoyance. It is not the lure of a past, grayIn summer […]

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