the winter anthology
Vol. 1
Charles Wright
in praise of
what is missing
When a tooth is extracted,
some side of the holy wheel is unnotched,
And twists, unlike Ixion’s, in the wind and weather,
And one slips into wanting nothing more
from the human world,
And leans back, a drifting cloud,
Toward what becomes vacant and is nameless and is blue,
As days once were, and will be again.