Hoyt Rogers

December 21, 2021 Rogers Hoyt



You return with us to the grave,
holding our hands in turn.
You speak: this is your gesture,
raised in words. Now our sister
is dead. Her face is pale
and far away behind the film
that has covered her eyes:
the filaments, the blackouts, the sheets.
This morning seems like a dream,
but it is not.
The truth happens once,
that is the truth.
And wake again to the veil of breath
on every window of our house.
The dust on our table is her hymn,
the table set with dust
our morning feast.
Dust, grave and still as morning light.
This is the hollow song she sings,
the music to be filled.
Now, witness, come.

Hoyt Rogers is a writer and translator. He translates from the French, German, Italian, and Spanish. He has published many books; he has contributed poetry, fiction, essays, and translations to a wide variety of periodicals. His edition of Yves Bonnefoy’s Rome, 1630 received the 2021 Translation Prize from the French-American Foundation. His forthcoming works include a poetry collection, Thresholds (MadHat Press), the novel Sailing to Noon (book one of The Caribbean Trilogy), and a translation of Bonnefoy’s The Wandering Life (Seagull Books). For more information, please visit his website, hoytrogers.com.