A different game of squash
7 years ago
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So Long, Farewell....14 years ago
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This is a good poem.
Other Lives and Dimensions and Finally a Love Poem
My left hand will live longer than my right. The rivers
Never argue with rivers. Never expect your lives to finish
praying, I think clapping is how hands mourn. I think
for paintings to sigh is science. In another dimension this
it's what they write grants about: the chromodynamics
the audible sorrow and beta decay of "Old Battersea Bridge."
theres and elsewheres, an Idaho known for bluegrass,
like violets smell. Perhaps I am somewhere patient, somehow
of a cousin universe I've never defiled or betrayed
two hands and they are vanishing, the hollow of your back
your voice and little else but my assiduous fear to cherish.
like the wind-torn work of a spider, like they squeezed
but couldn't hang on. One of those other worlds
passing through mine, or the ocean inside my mother's belly
Here when I say "I never want to be without you,"
"I never want to be without you again." And when I touch you
in all of the lives we are, it's with hands that are dying
When I don't touch you it's a mistake in any life,
Bob Hicok, Plus Shipping,
Boa Editions, Rochester, NY (1988), pp. 98-99
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