Sofia M. Starnes

If I forget you,         will you disappear?
The arc of Rilke’s question seemed to spawn
out of a dustbin,          remnant of a
sheer belief that minds are gods.          I found carbon

in a quarry, conjured a mastodon—
immense—from which a string of elephants

rushed into view.       Did this give beasts a chance
with little effort?          Where cataracts fell,
had I raised rivers?          Mine merely the glance.
Elsewhere, in darkness, neither stir nor swell—


Source: If I forget her, will she disappear?
From Rilke’s Sonnet to Orpheus
Trans. by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy