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Risa Bear
Is this the last
day we may walk
together? Then
I suppose I
must gaze
straight ahead.
When you asked
if you might
walk with me,
I said yes,
then looked
away. It is ...
a thing we do.
I, a moth with no sense of the day,
Dare not fly,
Lest the silence be marred.
If I should learn, in some quite casual way,
That you were gone, not to return again--
Read from the back-page of a paper, say,
Held by a neighbor in a subway train,
How at the corner of this avenue
And such a street (so are the papers filled)
A hurrying man--who happened to be you--
At noon to-day had happened to be killed,
I should not cry aloud--I could not cry
Aloud, or wring my hands in such a place--
I should but watch the station lights rush by
With a more careful interest on my face,
Or raise my eyes and read with greater care
Where to store furs and how to treat the hair.