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Poetry

An Old Woman Sings in Her Bed but Makes No Sound

by •
August 2004, no. 263
Poetry

An Old Woman Sings in Her Bed but Makes No Sound

by •
August 2004, no. 263

The summer night is dangerous and deep.
I lie, dead still, aware of the tiniest sounds
Being so full of joy I cannot sleep.

The night is dangerous, so many lives.
I love my husband well. A sharp moon
Rubs the spine of the barn. Nothing moves.

So many lives for the small years that remain.
My skin more wrinkled than a withered prune,
I study my hand and no word can explain.

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Keith Harrison’s poems have been published widely in Australia, the United States, and the United Kingdom. He is presently living in Canberra. His translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight appears in Oxford’s World’s Classics series.

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