by James Merrill
The site relives its tender monotone
In the begging children's bodies, thin and dark.
They even sleep here, watched over by a far dog's bark
Setting its faint pockmark onto the stone
Up out of which every morning small temples have grown
Like organs, those that nourish or beget,
At the onset of pubescence yet
More longed-for and more alien than our own.
Note: A recitation can be heard here.
- Mark Olival-Bartley
- Mark Olival-Bartley studied applied linguistics at Hawaii Pacific University, attaining B.A. and M.A. degrees in TESOL, and poetry at the City College of New York. He is now anatomizing the prosody of E. A. Robinson’s sonnets for his dissertation at Amerika Institut of LMU Munich, where also he edits a poetry weekly. His poems and translations have appeared in journals on both sides of the Atlantic. He is the resident poet at EcoHealth, where his science-themed verse is regularly featured, and a senior copyeditor of Review of International American Studies.