The Unquiet Ones

    Stanley Kunitz

                                           by Stanley Kunitz

Years ago I lost

both my parents’ addresses.

Father and mother lie

in their neglected cribs,

obscure as moles,

unvisited.

I do not need to summon them.

When I put out the light

I hear them stir, dissatisfied,

in their separate places,

in death as in life

remote from each other,

having no conversation

except in the common ground

of their son’s mind.

They slip through narrow crevices

and, suddenly blown tall,

glide into my cave of phantoms,

unwelcome guests, but not

unloved, dark emissaries

of the two-faced god.

 

2 thoughts on “The Unquiet Ones

  1. Me gusto mucho el titulo del poema, “Los inquietos”. Y lo de los padres en la cuna, como un regreso a la semilla, el hijo cuidando a sus padres como estos hicieron con el cuando era nino…Saludos, Zoe.

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