This can be called suffering. So strong and knowing This moving has become That I ache with wonder--know-- Yet, go under With its moving over me. Like angels Provoked to anger; Like pockets Of dangerous knowledge Surrendering into the depths; Yet, denying, even in death, The existence of the thing; Or that it moved, Or wondered, Or knew.
About the Poet:
Retta Lewis has been published in Caveat Lector, Haight Ashbury Literary Journal, and CC&D. Also, three of her poems are to be published in an upcoming issue of Rigorous. Past work from years ago appeared in: Onionhead, Wide Open Magazine, Free Focus, and Up Against the Wall, Mother. She works in a field devoted to the prevention of Domestic Violence.