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This poem is taken from PN Review 135, Volume 27 Number 1, September - October 2000.

Five Poems Charles Wright


After a time, Hoss, it makes such little difference
What anyone writes -
Relics, it seems, of the thing
                are always stronger than the thing itself.
Palimpsest and pentimento, for instance, saint's bones
Or saint's blood,
Transcendent architecture of what was possible, say,
                                                once upon a time.

The dogwoods bloom, the pink ones and the white ones, in blots
And splotches across the dusk.
                                    Like clouds, perhaps. Mock clouds

In a mock heaven,
the faint odour of something unworldly, or otherworldly,
Lingering in the darkness, then not.
As though some saint had passed by the side yard,
                                                the odour of Paradise,

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