of power, for whom even nakedness
has become an abstraction,
can learn from the life of the back .
It is the back that receives the rod,
that fetches and hauls .
It carries our life
like a house with many rooms.
In them stretch the corridors where
we chisel our days out of rock.
The back hides all that quivers .
It opens and closes like a door,
against others, against
ourselves. But it is also the back
which flows like silk beneath a lover's
hand, which shimmers like water,
like the open space in a forest.
It is a glade murmuring with voices.
It bears all the touch of the world.
Alfred Corn
LETTER TO TERESA GUICCIOLI
Missalonghi, March
3, 1824
Pietro's letter will have satisfied you
With the account of our health and safety.
We are tolerably tranquil-and except
An earthquake or two daily-(one of which
Broke the Lambico for filtering the water)
They rock us to and fro a little-things
Are much as when we wrote before . I miss
Last year's travels, the stops at Ithaca
