Incredible poem...

I am currently reading Christian Wiman's book, My Bright Abyss, a slim and insightful volume substitled:  Meditation of a Modern Believer.  It is well worth the effort.  Today I came across the poem that struck deep.  It is called "Native."

At sixteen,
sixteen miles


from Abilene
(Trent,


to be exact),
hellbent


on being not
this, not that,


I drove
a steamroller


smack-dab over
a fat black snake.


Up surged a cheer
from men


so cheerless
cheers


were grunts, squints,
whisker twitches


it would take
a lunatic acuity


to see.
I saw


the fat black snake
smashed flat


as the asphalt
flattening


under all ten tons
of me,


flat as the landscape
I could see


no end of,
flat as the affect


of distant killing
vigilance


it would take a native
to know was love.

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