Image by Vicki Skarratt

Paralysis

Paralysis

Laid out flat
in the back of the station wagon my father borrowed
I look up:
the leaves are immense,
green and golden with clear summer light
breaking through –
though I turn only my neck
I can see all of them
along this avenue that has no limits.

What does it matter
that I am only eyes
if I am to be carried
so lightly
under the trees of the world?
From beyond the numbness of my strange body
the wealth of the leaves
falls forever
into my small still watching.


from The Transformation Boat (River Road Press, 2008), © Peter Boyle 2008, used by permission of the author and River Road Press

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