Sanatorium
H. Leivick
1932–1936
Gate, open
doorsill, creep near.
Room, I’m here;
back to the cell.
Fire in my flesh.
snow on my skull.
My shoulder heaves
a sack of grief.
Good-bye. Good-bye.
Hand. Eye.
Burning lip
charred by good-bye.
Parted from whom?
From whom fled?
Let the riddle slip
unsaid.
The circling plain
is fire and flame:
fiery snow
on the hills.
Look—this…
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