Monday, April 02, 2007

The Widower

You do not remember this,
But I stood over your bed
Reading poetry as if the
Words on the faded page could
Outdo all we had been through,
The life we had shared over so
Many years, clawing earth together
As if that grip meant something,
As if we'd arrive somewhere
Someday, me taking off my hat
As you smiled and curtsied to
Something stronger and higher
Than either of us but tonight
All that matters is how, when
I reach for you, that spot is
Devoid of heat, and only
My own sweat soaked pillow
Rising up to meet my lips
When I try to kiss you
Across space across time
Across town, your grave simply
One among many, something for
Lawnmowers to dodge while they
Hum loudly to the open sky,
So much louder than poetry.

1 comment:

starshrines said...

Louder than lawnmowers:


Together

You and I by this lamp with these
Few books shut out the world. Our knees
Touch almost in this little space.
But I am glad. I see your face.
The silences are long, but each
Hears the other without speech.
And in this simple scene there is
The essence of all subtleties,
The freedom from all fret and smart,
The one sure sabbath of the heart.

The world - we cannot conquer it,
Nor change the minds of fools one whit.
Here, here alone do we create
Beauty and peace inviolate;
Here night by night and hour by hour
We build a high impregnable tower
Whence may shine, now and again,
A light to light the feet of men
When they see the rays thereof:
And this is marriage, this is love.

Ludwig Lewisohn