I remember a square of New York’s Hudson River glinting between warehouses. <br />Difficult to approach the water below the pier <br />Swirling, covered with oil the ship at the pier <br />A steel wall: tons in the water, <br /> <br /> <br />Width. <br />The hand for holding, <br />Legs for walking, <br />The eye sees! It floods in on us from here to Jersey tangled in the grey bright air! <br /> <br /> <br />Become the realm of nations. <br /> <br /> <br />My love, my love, <br />We are endangered <br />Totally at last. Look <br />Anywhere to the sight’s limit: space <br />Which is viviparous: <br /> <br /> <br />Place of the mind <br />And eye. Which can destroy us, <br />Re-arrange itself, assert <br />Its own stone chain reaction.<br /><br />George Oppen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/time-of-the-missile/
