Wave goodby now to the shadows passing clear
across the river in their coppery gondolas.
Charlie, Mrs. Gould, the Doctor, good
Nostromo, yes the Man uomo nostro
salt of bold tormented fortitude
will steer through
breakers of dusk over the bow,
Only in Hades may you understand
at last this iron-anchored tenderness,
a glinting curve in the mud & rust--
her flagrant disguise-- one hand
leading the way into a further darkness,
weighted with all earth (& loneliest).
Henry Gould | Island Road 55
Contents | Mudlark No. 6