The snow fell, finally     on your birthday
ripe Thanksgiving earth all     a sheep     in sheep's clothing
but growing cold.     Your old lovers walk by,
lonely     & how did Lazarus     inherit everything?

Marlow knows. Sternly over the stern
he views a murky star beneath the wake
wavering goodby     all your white hair going down
to Sheol,     stellular     for Marlow's sake.

The air was dark above Gravesend.
He resembled a pilot. Promotion to the fleet
at Ravenna. & only later to apprehend.

Benign immensity. Unceasing service. Meet
the Dark Lady     around Medusa Bend
& delicate snow shall be     your wedding sheet.


Henry Gould | Island Road 36
Contents | Mudlark No. 6