& if I never said
how beautiful the poems were
you wrote me long ago
it was like a tank caught
by an armor-piercing rocket:
outside only a small hole,
hard to notice, maybe just
above the treads, where the jet
of vaporized metal went in
richoceted through everything soft
leaving only confusion and silence
as far as anyone outside could hear,
tank grinding on.

for Sky, early 75


Return to: Top | Poems | Home