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Dana Levin The Point of the Needle

Since you got to behead each hollyhock crown with your round guillotine

of a mouth—

I hope you get to spin inside your paper house. Emerge noctuidae, owlet moth, laying your eggs in leaves at night. That you might finish your stitch— Replicate yourself in time so you are always present—

each egg a deposit—

an echo-pearl of “you” along time’s string—

That my soul might be allowed to flourish— Make a success of threading flesh, to participate

again in time, on

long arcs between sets of plunge, even though it hurt—

Dana Levin

77


to be born and die—

it loved to ride the point of the needle—

78

n e w

e n g l a n d

r e v i e w

Dana Levin, "The Point of the Needle"  

New England Review, Vol. 34, #2

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