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April 21st, 2014 - we have 234 poets, 8,025 poems and 103,948 comments.
Deborah Ager - Night: San Francisco

Rain drenches the patio stones.
All night was spent waiting 
for an earthquake, and instead 

water stains sand with its pink foam.
Yesterday's steps fill in with gray crabs.  
Baritone of a fog horn. A misty light 

warns tankers, which block the green 
after-sunset flash. My lover's voice calls 
to others in his restless sleep. 

The venetian blinds slice streetlights, 
light coils around my waist and my lover's neck, 
dividing him into hundredths. 

Would these fractions make me happier? 
My hands twist into a crocodile. 
My index finger the tooth that bites 

Gauguin's Tahiti. My thumb is the head feather 
of a California quail crying chi-ca-go. 
Night barely continues. Is this the building

staying still? Is this hand the scorpion
that will do us in? A few of Irving Street's
sycamores will blue the air come morning.

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Added: Feb 27 2003 | Viewed: 5884 times | Comments and analysis of Night: San Francisco by Deborah Ager Comments (4)

Night: San Francisco - Comments and Information

Poet: Deborah Ager
Poem: Night: San Francisco
Volume: New England Review
Year: Published/Written in 2002
Poem of the Day: May 18 2006

Comment 4 of 4, added on April 6th, 2010 at 12:29 AM.
nice poem

I just love it. Open your world with her poems. You will see that you will like it.

Mellisa
Comment 3 of 4, added on April 19th, 2008 at 10:31 AM.

I like your poems, Deborah. Keep me apprised of your work, please. -Don
(P.S. I was trained in the classical mode of poetry writing at Harvard but presently work in what is termed "post modern")

Donald E. Boyd from United States
Comment 2 of 4, added on December 27th, 2006 at 4:56 AM.

i have a full translation of this poem into polish. btw, my translation, and even in other language, it sounds great.

martin from Poland

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