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Thursday, July 08, 2004

Becoming in Black (after Ghalib)
by William Dennis

Hard men live easy, it's true, and, yes, easy men live hard.
Only man . . . even woman . . . tries and fails to be humane.

What mad-moon gravity sets me full in that direction
Daily, by choice and aware, startled when she's still not there?

Her face would coax vision out of the most reluctant eye;
Even her green-backed mirror wants to see what it reflects.

My wound waits in the grave, while I mourn the death of all joy;
Glancing up, my tears embellish an orchard from your face.

She swears this binding oath: not to torment my remains more;
One so becoming in black is quick to don mourning.

# posted by will : 11:59 AM