Your Sunday Poem

From "Say Uncle," poems by Kay Ryan



The Fourth Wise Man



The fourth wise man

disliked travel. If

you walk, there's the

gravel. If you ride,

there's the camel's attitude.

He far preferred

to be inside in solitude

to contemplate the star

that had been getting

so much larger

and more prolate lately --

stretching vertically

(like the sound of martyrs)

toward the poles

(or like the yawns of babies).