Double

by Rae Armantrout

Rae Armantrout

So these are the hills of home. Hazy tiers
nearly subliminal. To see them is to see
double, hear bad puns delivered with a wink.
An untoward familiarity.

Rising from my sleep, the road is more
and less the road. Around that bend are pale
houses, pairs of junipers. Then to look
reveals no more.

From: 
Veil: New and Selected Poems





Last updated December 02, 2022