#poem After Escher - George BilgereTwenty-five summers agoI wrote a poem about the summer ending,the shadows lengthening, and the lightgone soft and elegiaclike the end of a love song.It joined roughly a million poemswritten that summer aloneon the same subject, but in Spanishor Japanese, or Swahili,always the same thing, same shadowslengthening, same soft light,and I ended my poem, twenty five years ago,by saying that the back of my handhad begun to look like a dead leafor the back of someone else’s hand.1/