tonydemarest at hotmail.com
Tue Dec 9 13:47:20 EST 2008
The following poem will appear in issue 64 of The New York Quarterly- I was ignoring my wife one day by preparing for a class on PL- one would think after being married for almost 40 years that certain habits would be tolerated- so I wrote this rather than a tract on divorce.Happy birthday John!Tony
I should be as careful with your heart
as I am with my glasses: as if to read
one more line of Milton demands
the span of years to know when love
be there days beyond
the time it takes for my hand to reach
across to touch yours while archangels rain down
past our window without a single shadow,
and the confusion and clamor of their fading
wings dissolve in the hiss of melting ice.
Our garden suffers no fruit in winter;
brown and cracked like old bones,
what is left from autumn waits for
spring engraving and the kind thievery
of sculpting hands.
to lose. This is no war in heaven, no
heroics here: only my folly remains epic.
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