Ledge: Beth Kephart Poem

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

The strange knowing between us.
The thin line of nothing
that is the listen,
thigh to thigh.
The untelling of song and the sun
that falls shy.
I am not my age.
I am not who I have been,
or I should say:
Dance is hardly archeological.
It is now, then gone.
It is the hard, soft heart of remembering
when: I moved, I was moved
by the untelling of song.

Sun on the ledge.


Anna Lefler said...


I've read it several times already...love it.

Thanks for sharing this with us...



A Cuban In London said...

'The untelling of song and the sun
that falls shy.'

This is one of the most beautiful uses of alliteration I have seen in a long time. Marvellous poem.

Greetings from London.

Tessa said...

Oh, how the images you create move in my mind like a graceful ballet.

Juliet Colors said...

Ooh, I love this. Especially the line "dance is hardly archeological." So true.

Anonymous said...


Woman in a Window said...

I believe you, although I can hardly say my dance would be immortalized the same way.

Em said...

Your pictures are always so wonderfully complementary of your words. In a unique, sometimes mysterious way.

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