a found poem: Virginia Woolf’s The Waves
He walks across the field
like forlorn light
his magnificence
behind him.
Sheep settle on the rough grass.
The two great elm trees
despise him.
One slovenly cricket
is trooping clumsily
after his long stride
and his heart
is now heavy and yellow.
The wake of a battle
seems to lie
on the long grasses.
This is where
he will die—
he will choose
to buckle.
Cover Art by Mehrul Bari S. Chowdhury
