Pardon Me

                          “It jumps through the window,
                               kneels on the table”
                      Marosa di Giorgio, I Remember Nightfall

The pardon is on the table. What pardon? What table? I’ll pardon myself. Pardon me. The pardon, what does it look like? Its dimensions? Can we see it? Can we taste it? Ah. We smell it. I remember. Do you? Rife with pardons. Green pardons. Misty-blue pardons. Silver, gold and crystal pardons. Denim pardons, corduroy pardons, silk purse for a sow’s pardons, velvet pardons.

Decaf of pardons
Great Barrier Reef of pardons
Great Depression of pardons
Fluke of pardons

Why say “so nice
and quiet” when it
was so nice and
quiet? My err


Fieldwork of pardons
Common dragonflies of pardon
Uncommon dragonflies of pardon
Buchenwald of pardons

What to do with all those dead ends?

Norma Cole

Norma Cole’s most recent book of poetry is Actualities, her collaboration with painter Marina Adams. Cole lives and teaches in the sanctuary city of San Francisco.


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