2058. MY MOST GENTEEL ROUT

MY MOST GENTEEL ROUT

My brother, my brother, I've lost so

many things standing here at the

border while still my heart sings.

Having never learned a trade, I trade

my learning now for a hundred other

things : nail-biting, the way the boxer

falls to the mat and does not get up,

the fair and distant horizon where

that faint green light yet beckons, and

I am all alone; thinking of someone

equally fair at the 'fine, green breast

of a newer world.' (I've never felt at

home, all things made brutal by this

world you see). But oh to you my brother

I owe no strife; we co-exist, and that is

life, so different and yet the same. The

fireplace has its fire as the flower has

its flower. On the mantle, the dim

yellow of the sitting-room lamp shines

on, illuminating (almost) nothing at all.