Is there a center in all of this,
or only field peas in flower, or just
our meadow peas in flower? Yes,
all of it, and they, as they must
be, are only ours, and you
are only mine, and, of course, ours
as well, which is the same as mine
for now, while we are undevoured,
which will not last and will not last
because it seems it will until
the evening ends exactly as
it ended here tonight – still,
with light in the trees and storms somewhere
out towards Prospect – which is to say
forever. But stay with me like peas
in the meadow, which is to say always.
I am such a Perry fangirl. But this poem – it’s beautiful. It’s not one of my absolute N. Perry favorites because I think it is a little, tiny bit indulgent and sweet. But..it’s indulgent and sweet in the right way, I think, a way that’s working for him.
Side note: Marie Howe, one of my other favorite poets, chose Perry’s Nine Acres as winner for the APR/Honickman Book Prize.