I am a gastroenterologist, living with my wife in Denver. Most of my poetry is not medical. My work has appeared most recently in Field, Rattle, and Hotel Amerika.
Czeslaw Milosz read his poem, “Encounter,” in Polish. Next, he climbed into the wooden wagon of English and read it again. Then he recited the words in sign language, pulling on the reins of the lines and tightening the black bits in our mouths. At the end, he pointed at the sky and then at the ground. After that, he tapped on the podium in Morse code. The horse’s hooves clopped; the hare dashed. Milosz read the poem once more in complete silence to an empty auditorium. As an encore, he took off his hat, an old cloth one, and pulled a rabbit from it. The rabbit ran a little ways on the stage, then stopped and looked back.
first published in 2River
©2017 Bill Rector
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