ELEANOR HOOKER from traces It is forbidden to spit on cats in plague-time. – Albert Camus, The Plague, translated by Stuart Gilbert i. mark You have ruined your eyes reading by candlelight, and singed your wings – white feathers smudged like Ash Wednesday, in this, the year of the plague. You have saved her voice and when she speaks – doves, and when she speaks – flight, and when she speaks – passion, the fall and the coronet. You struggle to climb through your own blind eyes, to track her marks in the snow.
8 The Poetry Review