Of course I thought of Yeats when I walked out.
I’d written that I loved your “pilgrim soul.”
The streets were silent. No one was about.
I walked and walked and walked without a goal.
I could have stayed and joined you with your “friend,”
but you knew very well I couldn’t bear
the sight of you with him, and couldn’t pretend
that it was fine the two of you were there
together. There was nothing I could do.
The pit had opened. I was falling in.
The only thing I cared about was you.
Now all was lost. With nothing left to win,
I paced the streets. I couldn’t go home, or back.
No stars were out. The sky was total black.
No stars were out. The sky was total black.
Now all was lost. With nothing left to win,
I paced the street. I couldn’t go home, or back.
The pit had opened. I was falling in.
The only thing I cared about was you,
but you were there with him. I couldn’t pretend
that it was fine the two of you were there
together. There was nothing I could do.
How could I stay and join you with your “friend”?
Oh, you knew all too well what I couldn’t bear!
I walked and walked and walked without a goal.
The streets were silent. No one was about.
I’d written that I loved your “pilgrim soul.”
Of course I thought of Yeats when I walked out.
Bruce Bennett is the author of ten books of poetry and more than thirty poetry chapbooks. His most recent book is Just Another Day in Just Our Town: Poems: New And Selected, 2000-2016 (Orchises Press, 2017), and his most recent chapbook is Our Rough Beast, (FootHills Publishing, 2017), a sequel to The Donald Trump of the Republic (FootHills Publishing, 2016). He is Professor Emeritus of English at Wells College in Aurora, New York.
