In Baclayon, Reading Levertov’s

“For Those Whom the Gods Love Less”



Perhaps it is now the other way around,

and I have become an almost-perfect lover,

caring little that the Gods love poets less.

I am begun again anew, listening

from the open window to the old tambis tree

drop red bells of fruit onto the grass & roof.

In this humid May afternoon in Baclayon,

the guava redolent on the branch meets the sun-

bird’s praise, both scent & song passing through me,

as though I have turned into all-embracing air

in this keep of grace, Levertov’s radiant wings

decanting shadows, urging the only way to let love.




Marjorie Evasco