Tuesday, June 13, 2017

Tuesday Poem: "Your Voice in the Chemo Room" by Max Ritvo



There is a white stone cliff over a dropping slope
sliced along with bare trees.


In the center of the cliff is a round dry fountain

of polished stone. By seizing my whole body up


as I clench my hand I am able to open

the fountain into a drain, revealing below it


the sky, the trees, a brown and uncertain ground.

This is how my heart works, you see?


This is how love works? Have some sympathy

for the great spasms with which I must open


myself to love and close again, and open.

And if I leapt into the fountain, there is just no


telling: I might sever myself clean, or crack

the gold bloom of my head, and I don’t know


onto what uncertain ground I might fold like a sack.



by Max Ritvo



For more information about poet, Max Ritvo, see:



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