Departure Carolyn Forche We take it with us, the cry of a train slicing a field leaving its stiff suture, a distant tenderness as when rails slip behind us and our windows touch the field, where it seems the dead are awake and so reach for each other. Your hand cups the light of a match to your mouths in their hands like this to know what is left of them. Between us, a tissue of smoke, a bundle of belongings, luggage that will seem to float beside us, the currency we will change and change again. Here is the name of a friend who will take you in, the papers of a men who vanished, the one you will become when the man you have been disappears. I am the woman whose photpgragh you will not recognize, whose face emptied your eyes, whose eyes were brief, like the smallest of cities we slipped through. 這首詩是我期中報告的題目之一， 越讀越欣賞，所以就把它放上來和大家分享分享一下感動的心情。 我喜歡作者對於愛情的態度和想法， 以及空間上的移動融合了人生的聚散離合。 我寫報告寫到瘋了，講的話完全沒條理了啦啦啦。 --

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