Easter Morning full poem by Amy Clampitt



 Easter Morning


A stone at dawn,
Coldwater in the basin
These walls' rough plaster imageless

After the hammering
of so much insistence,
On the need for naming
after the travesties, that passed as faces.
Grace: the unction of sheer nonexistence,
Upwelling in this
hyacinthine freshet, of the unnamed
the faceless.




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