Image by Elijah Hiett/Unsplash, Public Domain Dedication (CC0).
Book of Genesis
Suppose there was a book full of only the word,
let – from whose clipped sound all things begin: fir
and firmament, feather, the first whale – and suppose
we could scroll through its pages every day
to find and pronounce a Let meant only for us –
we would stumble through the streets with open books,
eyes crossed from too much reading; we would speak
in auto-rhyme, the world would echo itself – and still
we’d continue in rounds, saying let and let and let
until even silent dreams had been allowed.
“Book of Genesis” from There Is an Anger That Moves by Kei Miller. Reprinted by permission of Carcanet Press Limited and the poet.
This poem was originally read in the Poetry Unbound episode “A Poem for Letting Yourself Be.”
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