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Show III. The sun bleared in through the i.c.u., Mercy Hospital, rm. 219, ...you hardly knew your visitor... Frozen-snow cutbanks greyed outside as I lingered near, by, and heard the tired collapsed gaggle of your lung. A nasty patient still, first words you dunned me for a smoke, "Go stall the nurse." Hard to stay put: poles, tubes, bottles followed like a tree, and I- desultory, we clattered through that world of tragic lives, like ours, but this: when we walked out for good, we talked in love...as easy as that. IV. A tough mid-winter, fueled and inching along the house fronts: eloquence of leaf £one black, gray breast of cloud. What green conversions by the fire! Soft-you taught me the sad Italian- I read aloud, by f i t s , God-troubled speculators on our lives. But Lowry was our champion. Pinned, hi3 photo balleted above the flames: bare-barrelchested in his shorts and high-topped tennis shoes, grinning to dive into the cold and blackly moving water, off his pier. We yelped: dive, Malcolm, dive! |
