What the Last Evening Will Be Like
by Edward Hirsch
You're sitting at a small bay window
in an empty café by the sea.
It's nightfall, and the owner is locking up,
though you're still hunched over the radiator,
which is slowly losing warmth.
Now you're walking down to the shore
to watch the last blues fading on the waves.
You've lived in small houses, tight spaces—
the walls around you kept closing in—
but the sea and the sky were also yours.
No one else is around to drink with you
from the watery fog, shadowy depths.
You're alone with the whirling cosmos.
Goodbye, love, far away, in a warm place.
Night is endless here, silence infinite.
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2 comments:
I stumbled on your blog while doing a google search on this poem from today's selection to see if "along" was a typo...it seems like it should be "alone"...but then "along" piques the imagination more so maybe it is correct.
Anyway, hope you don't mind if I bookmark your site...at first glance we seem to have a lot in common from being reheads to having a penchant for Poe and clever play-on-words...when I get more time I think I will enjoy looking at the other poems and photographs that spoke to you.
Interesting! Now that you mention it, "alone" might make more sense. I see http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/21658 has "alone" as well. Glad you like my little nook on the web.
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