It?s not supposed to
be there, get it?
Another time you
were rolling down a hill
like a blueberry
rolling toward
me, a bear who will
eat anything
this time of year
but wants
just you. Then
you are not you but
the plum of a pebble
that I skipped
into the lake
and found somehow
night after night.
For Slate's poetry submission guidelines, click here. Click here?to visit Robert Pinsky's Favorite Poem Project site. Click here for an archive of discussions about poems with Robert Pinsky in "the Fray," Slate's reader forum.
Source: http://feeds.slate.com/click.phdo?i=1721b74245eb51d9dba5b9585f99b5a8
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