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“What We Said” by W. D. Snodgrass 🇺🇸 (5 Jan 1926 – 13 Jan 2009)
Stunned in that first estrangement,
We went through the turning woods
Where inflamed leaves sick as words
Spun, wondering what the change meant.
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Half gone, our road led onwards
By barbed wire, past the ravine
Where a lost couch, snarled in vines,
Spilled its soiled, gray innards
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Into a garbage mound.
We came, then, to a yard
Where tarpaper, bottles and charred
Boards lay on the trampled ground.
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This had been someone’s lawn.
And, closing up like a wound,
The cluttered hole in the ground
A life had been built upon.
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In the high grass, cars had been.
On the leafless branches, rags
And condoms fluttered like the flags
Of new orders moving in.
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We talked of the last war, when
Houses, cathedral towns, shacks—
Whole continents went into wreckage.
What fools could do that again?
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Ruin on every side—
We would set our loves in order,
Surely, we told each other.
Surely. That’s what we said.