for Peg
We give them up
our cities washed in grit
to the whispers of the skin
All but Paris
our grey nun
making a revolution of the rain
a gargoyle
lifting up its stone wing
as if it were an angel’s
I see your face
even with my eyes closed
the long banner of your hair
If you would love ugliness
then touch me
Take my anger
to your lips
It will open prisons
It will give a name
to that kiss that spreads its sheer colors
like a bloom of oil
on waters filthy with winter
In the wild belfry
Lady
of this bed
humped and deaf as Quasimodo
ululalia
shaking bone and blood
we ride this ton
of jubilation
banging and baning
together
clapper and bell
Robert Dana
Born in Boston in 1929, Robert Dana has had a long and distinguished career. He has published more than a dozen books of poetry, most recently The Morning of the Red Admirals (2004) and Summer (2000). His work has appeared in Poetry, The New Yorker, and The Iowa Review, among numerous other publications. Awards and honors include a Pulitzer nomination for Starting Out for the Difficult World (1988), the Pushcart Prize, and the Rainer Maria Rilke Prize for Poetry. He is Poet Laureate of the State of Iowa.
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