A REFUGE FOR POETS WHO WRITE IN THE LYRIC TRADITION,
WITH RHYME AND METER, WITH OR WITHOUT MUSIC
|
WHO WILL TAKE ME IN
I always meant to take her in, you know;
And when I bought this olden wood-framed home
I thought that she would surely love it here
If only it were not so far to go,
If only I could get her on a bus,
If only it were not so hard for us
To get along; and these unworthy fears
Confined our words to letters, or the phone.
I only wish that I could see her now,
And listen to her grudges and complaints,
And memories of childhood; I allow
That she was both a sinner and a saint.
I wonder now, as Christ receives her soul,
Just who will take me in when I am old.
Schenectady, New York, 2000
|
|