This poem is taken from PN Review 36, Volume 10 Number 4, March - April 1984.
His Thirst
It was the utmost of his thirst
To set his mouth against the stream,
Leaning his hands on the wet rocks.
It was his nearest to content
To feel the inward cold slip down
And quiet his body with its touch.
...
To set his mouth against the stream,
Leaning his hands on the wet rocks.
It was his nearest to content
To feel the inward cold slip down
And quiet his body with its touch.
...
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