
The Names
Yesterday, I lay awake in the palm of the night.
A soft rain stole in, unhelped by any breeze,
And when I saw the silver glaze on the windows,
I started with A, with Ackerman, as it happened,
Then Baxter and Calabro,
Davis and Eberling, names falling into place
As droplets fell through the dark.
Names printed on the ceiling of the night.
Names slipping around a watery bend.
Twenty-six willows on the banks of a stream.
In the morning, I walked out barefoot
Among thousands of flowers
Heavy with dew like the eyes of tears,
And each had a name —
Fiori inscribed on a yellow petal
Then Gonzalez and Han, Ishikawa and Jenkins.
Names written in the air
And stitched into the cloth of the day.
Click here to read the rest of the poem.
Discover more from TWO WRITING TEACHERS
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.


Wow. I love Billy Collins (he has a new book out I have to get!), but I hadn’t seen this one before. Heartbreaking.
LikeLike
Stacey,
Just found your entry and I feel great that it’s passing along. I have great memories with it,
Bonnie
LikeLike
thanks for this. i just bought 3 volumes of collins’ poetry last weekend after worshiping his work from afar
LikeLike
I hadn’t seen this one, either. Sad and sobering.
LikeLike
I’ve never seen this one before. It’s perfect for this week… Thanks.
LikeLike