NPM: Day 8

The Lost Art of Letter-Writing
by Eavan Boland

The ratio of daylight to handwriting
Was the same as lacemaking to eyesight.
The paper was so thin it skinned air.

The hand was fire and the page tinder.
Everything burned away except the one
Place they singled out between fingers

Held over a letter pad they set aside
For the long evenings of their leave-takings,
Always asking after what they kept losing,

Always performing—even when a shadow
Fell across the page and they knew the answer
Was not forthcoming—the same action:

First the leaning down, the pen becoming
A staff to walk fields with as they vanished
Underfoot into memory....

You can read the rest of the poem, and listen to the author reading it, here. That's a link I've had open for a long time, and I've read this intriguing poem again and again. I'm still not sure I completely understand it, but it has so many beautiful lines.

Speaking of lines, you can read today's for the Progressive Poem here.