Listen to the world’s best poetry read out loud.

i.m. NPD

The stonework’s vault from the pull of the crypt
in the tallest cathedral in Europe,
the topmost stone in the bridge’s fan,
the waist of a diamond, a sea-eagle’s span

or you at fifteen, poised on the high board,
arms toward heaven in what might be prayer
or praise to the sun and what you can dare
before the slow-curving dive to the cold

at the foot of the cliff or pier, that day
at the height of summer, exactly half-way.