When the rain stops the porch is a blankness.
The yard is, the trees, where I know them to be—.
The power’s been out in the village all night.
And one plane puttering above in the darkness.
The darkness grows lengthened by a running light.
To know such solitude as this. To know the extent
of sorrow not by sorrow but the memory of joy.
The night’s endless darkness. I hear its voice.
David Baker’s books of poetry include Whale Fall (W. W. Norton, forthcoming in 2022), Swift: New and Selected Poems, (2019), and Never-Ending Birds (2009), which won the Theodore Roethke Memorial Poetry Prize. His six books of prose include Seek After: Essays on Modern Lyric Poets (2018) and Show Me Your Environment (2014). His individual poems and essays appear lately in such journals as American Poetry Review, The Atlantic, The Nation, New York Times, The New Yorker, Poetry, and The Yale Review.He lives in Granville, Ohio.
Latest posts by David Baker (see all)