And Then At Times by Charles Bane, Jr.

And Then At Times

And then at times
the dips of our marriage are
no different than the falling
into love in Richmond Park
before we started home, and I
wrote every day until the motion
of the ship made me certain that
for every berth going out,
new souls put in, spit from
foam. If I could read Greek or
understand the errand of the
cardinal we watch for with coffee
in our hands, I could make poetry
on the tips of fence spears where
he stops and the fire of you would
go urgently from land to land.

by Charles Bane, Jr.

Editor’s Note: Layered and recursive imagery creates a much more complex relationship in this poem than would fleeting scenes on solitary lines.


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