Two Poems by Anne Carson

EPITAPH: ZION


Murderous little world once our objects had gazes. Our lives

Were fragile, the wind

Could dash them away. Here lies the refugee breather

Who drank a bowl of elsewhere.

EPITAPH: ANNUNCIATION


Motion swept the world aside, aghast to white nerve nets.

Pray what

Shall I do with my six hundred wings? as blush feels

Slow, from inside.