Friday, December 20th, 2013
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A Poem By Thomas Devaney

The War Vase

None of the words in my voice
are my own. What I can see
I see only through your eyes:
the tempera gold leaf—my vessel,
my vim.
           The accumulation
of all my reflections; your face
is older now too. Still, I am rash—
a prize above the fray.
Spared
in the minds
of those who will not spare
each other.
Emanation is a light
that can shine
from one’s own body.
But ruder powers do the job
I cannot do myself.
My only enemies are those
who will not fight for me.



Thomas Devaney is the author of The Picture that Remains (The Print Center, Philadelphia, 2014). He is the editor of ONandOnScreen and he teaches at Haverford College.

You will find more poems here. You may contact the editor at poems@theawl.com.