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