Poetry

Morgan
PROFILE About me Friends (1) Poetry (18)


16 august 2014

When

When I sweat the big sweat
shudder, die and descend
to the Stygian shore
(which may look a lot like the Hudson,
only darker sliding)
I will quickly locate the ferry gate
and, after only a little wait
offer its famous boatman a poem
swearing it my only fare.

Then, I bet, he'll sniff 'what's this for'?
(having known every past form of coercion)
shake it out briefly, and moving his lips
begin to read, leaning on  his oar.

I further expect, as he reads, to see brightening
his tired eyes, and a smile
lighten his dour face;
that, finishing the now-damp poem,
he'll look me appraisingly up and down,
sigh, tip cap and say:

'All aboard, sir, there's a seat for you here--
Estimable shade, your table is waiting,
people are expecting you there,
on the other side.
No one said you'd be coming today--
How's the weather up there, anyway?
I do sincerely hope you'll enjoy your stay
with us, here, and find everything here to your liking'.




Terms of use | Privacy policy | Contact

Copyright © 2010 truml.com, by using this service you accept terms of use.


contact with us






Report this item

You have to be logged in to use this feature. please register

Ta strona używa plików cookie w celu usprawnienia i ułatwienia dostępu do serwisu oraz prowadzenia danych statystycznych. Dalsze korzystanie z tej witryny oznacza akceptację tego stanu rzeczy.    Polityka Prywatności   
ROZUMIEM
1