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when it at length became necessity
to keep her bed, and eat her perfect food,
and share her reachless immortality,
he sat and wept raw tears, reckless, and crude.
the surf before him tumbled to its breaking,
yielding its weak, white throats upon the rocks
at every surge, a rhythm dying, making
by sacrifice an edge for settling flocks.
he sees them part before the arguskiller,
breaking out of the air over the shore,
blind to the terror of his arm, that spiller
of circumspect; they mind the edge, no more.
the journey is his choice, although he knows
he by an island, to an island, goes.
&
36
the hours, the days, the weeks and months, the years
make intervals for courtship, currents when
we run to something, waters wherein weirs,
like moments, check our flow and, pooling, pen
the motive; here we marry without cause
as often as we meet, so long as chance
by whorls and undertows permits us pause,
until the currents turbulent advance.
in dreaming thoughts we keep no minutes. there
my frame and your interior commute
and weld; my source, your mouth can lightly bear
one name; and both our properties transmute.
but these are unrecorded visions; we
may marry, and divorce, but presently.