A Poem by Courtney Kampa: ‘After Balthus’NEWS | 08 October 2025What moves is dying, and what is dying
must make due with less. And still, a sudden pathos
of half breath, this air’s frayed-syllables, bleached gold
in the city’s afterrain. Still this wick-wet road, this wax.
And so the unscrubbed faces of the windows
look inward; so the door’s hinge cries a pitch higher
when opened out. So the streetlight’s gray bells
peal in their relentless sooty glow. So,
in the avenue’s shadow, we’ll weigh all that is taken
against what we must hand back.
This poem is from Courtney Kampa’s new book, A Bright and Borrowed Light .Author: Courtney Kampa. Source
