After Seeing the Irish Modern Dance Theatre’s Lear

Catherine Staples

Slow light is breaking
beyond the donkey’s pasture.
Inside the darkened house
brightness rims the shutters.

Sunlight strains before it breaks,
fattens to a saffron seam.
A saint’s pageant flashes
and slides across the room.

Morning runs riot—
a tumbler’s leap of shadows.
A chandelier rides the ceiling,
the writing desk blanches

in the changed light—shivers
and stares. All of it quick
as lakewater dried in your hair,
a flame blown loose from the wick.

Catherine Staples is the author of The Rattling Window and Never a Note Forfeit. Her poems have appeared in The Gettysburg Review, Kenyon Review, Poetry, The Southern Review, and others. She teaches in the Honors and English programs at Villanova University.
Originally published:
January 1, 2019

Featured

Louise Glück’s Late Style

The fabular turn in the poet’s last three books
Teju Cole

The Critic as Friend

The challenge of reading generously
Merve Emre

Rachel Cusk

The novelist on the “feminine non-state of non-being”
Merve Emre

You Might Also Like

Hurricane

Catherine Staples

In a Hurry

Catherine Staples

Books

On Frank Bidart

Poetry in review
Christopher Spaide

Newsletter

Sign up for The Yale Review newsletter and keep up with news, events, and more.