the bell zygmunt

.

.

For fertility, a new bride is lifted to touch it with her left hand,

or possibly kiss it.

The sound close in, my friend told me later, is almost silent.

.

At ten kilometers, even those who have never heard it know what it is.

.

If you stand near during thunder, she said,

you will hear a reply.

.

She who cooked lamb and loved wine and wild-mushroom pastas.

She who when I saw her last was silent as the great Zygmunt mostly is,

a ventilator's clapper between her dry lips.

.

Because I could, I spoke.  She laid her palm on my cheek to answer.

And soon again, to say it was time to leave.

.

I put my lips near the place a tube went into

the back of one hand.

The kiss - as if it knew what I did not yet - both full and formal.

.

As one would kiss the ring of a cardinal, or the rim

of that cold iron bell, whose speech can mean "Great joy,"

or - equally - "The city is burning. Come."

.

~ Jane Hirshfield

from After

.