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Show V. Azalea blossoms-dense, immured, pampered-dodder at the window l i k e those who came before u s . Mild May l i n k s the damaged lawns. Not spare, our p a s t s . If we thought lone enough, we'd learn, accept: old flames leave notes in our t e e t h , "I loved her up against a w a l l . " There's violence in f a c t s. After the sun i s gone, I watch the horizon, brooding, in a darker mood; flower-shadows l o l l against the couch l i k e heavy, s a t i s f i e d men...I swing around b l i n d . . . c l o s e r to the truth than I , she smokes and does not speak. VI. " I t must grow l e s s one day": we hoped. And waited i t out against a time that found you dying to r e s c u e . . . a l l I ' d done wrong. It was most d i f f i c u l t for you. Bad days, a buried sentence set me off -you held t i g h t and wouldn't estrange. You won't be loved like that again. Nightmares f i r e d my fixed concern, and coaxed my blame-a shallow fear, weeks, and I tossed in bed, your warm turn and topple me from sleep: speechless, I held you s t i f f to the light. Why you stayed on I ' l l never know. |