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From "Omeros" (self.poetry)

submitted 1 year ago by snakesnakewhale to c/poetry

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Derek Walcott, 1990

These are the days when, however simple the future, we do not go
towards it but leave part of life in a lobby whose elevators
divide and enclose us, brightening digits that show

exactly where we are headed, while a young Polish woman
is emptying an ashtray, and we are drawn to a window
whose strings, if we pull them, widen an emptiness.

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[–] tobor 2 points 1 year ago (1 children)

I could never read all of it, but Omeros is full of gems. Thanks for sharing!

[–] snakesnakewhale 1 points 1 year ago* (last edited 1 year ago)

Yeah! I think Omeros hit my radar right after War Music by Christopher Logue. I was interested in "alternative" translations/variations, and though Omeros is an original piece it folds so much Homer into modern language that it caught my eye. My part of the US has a huge Caribbean community as well, so I was interested in Walcott as a St. Lucian writer, too.