Archive for April 10th, 2020

Friday, 10 April 2020

Good Friday by Edward Reynolds Price

Or gift. Is pain an outright gift?
Is he so far gone (three-quarter million days)
That pain sufficient to polish steel
Is his one memory of human form?—
Three hours of a stormy spring afternoon,
Spiked up in a reeking suburban landfill
To drain in sight of his toothless mother,
Her younger friends: clear in his mind
Still and wished back on us, last possible link?

From: Price, Reynolds, “Good Friday” in Poetry, April 1988, p. 25.

Date: 1988

By: Edward Reynolds Price (1933-2011)