When I Get There


When I get there, the gate
will be littered
with leaves, lifting,

piling, in between
the pickets. All around
will be blue--the sun hot,

but far off,
and everywhere a rush
ruffling the light.

I will be so sleepy
and pleased, buffeted
by these light-laden winds,

I will lie back 
down, into the leaves,
and not remember to go in.


from Give the Body Back

by Stephanie Strickland

U. Missouri Press, 1991.

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