We're deeply saddened to hear about the passing of Belle Waring, a wonderful person and poet. We're remembering her today with this beautiful poem from her collection, Dark Blonde.
Your street at sundown.
Your window, the only one lit up
in all those apartments
stacked silhouette black
against the sky—what a color!
loud, like they threw blue dye in it.
Citizen, look up,
the sky god is speaking.
Man, that blue is talking:
You there on the old old earth,
listen to me, don’t blast yourself.
There: the woman on your balcony.
The woman you let slip—
her forearms on the railing
letting the breeze mess with her sleeves.
Behind her in the room
the books unbend
hover off the shelves
and like a small space station
they wheel like electrons in her skirt—
the books open up to the lines you want
open like air
like water that opens wherever you already are.
Man, look up. Even a small child
has sense enough to drink that blue
whose beauty wounds him so precisely
he knows his life is worth saving.