Poetry at Sangam

SangamHouse

 










When day breaks we will be off by James Byrne

That the stars could be tissue paper
or, better, coated in sugar, she says,
and points, blind, a bony forefinger
to the nowhere sky of Europe; place
displacing her, a woman suppliant,
as in Aeschylus, counting on familiars,
like friendliness. Why is it in this land
they look at me like we are strangers?