Among a Lot of Poems

Among a lot of poems There was one I could never quite bring to mind Except that I had composed it A while back Going down this street This street …

Among a lot of poems
There was one
I could never quite bring to mind
Except that I had composed it
A while back
Going down this street
This street on the even-numbered side
Bathed in a morning light
A street of small persistent shops
Between the stricken Seine and the hospital
A poem I wrote with my feet
As I compose all my poems
Silently in my head walking
But I remember nothing
Except the street the light and the chance
That had put into this poem
The word “respect”
A word I wouldn’t ordinarily set pulsing
Across my mind’s pages of poetry
Beyond that nothing
And this word this word that won’t budge
Witnesses the end of that street
Like a tree space has forgotten

Jacques Roubaud

Enjoy What You’re Reading?

Fact-based journalism is our passion and your right.

We feature Canadian voices and expertise on stories and events with a global impact, from the mainstreaming of cannabis to the fallout of the SNC-Lavalin affair to Canada's response to COVID-19, and we firmly believe that this reporting can change the world around us.

We’re asking readers like you to support The Walrus so we can continue to lead the Canadian conversation.
Every contribution makes a difference.
Please support The Walrus from as little as $2.
Donations of $20 or more will receive a charitable tax receipt.