An honest man has no need for weapons.
Through the cracked desert, the steepest mountains,
Even the thick banks of deadly rivers
No need. When I carelessly left this place,
Her name on my lips, all doubts left with me.
Even the thought of her thighs welcoming
Any wolf in sheep's clothing. No thoughts
But her name on my lips and I could be
At the farthest station of this grim earth,
Waiting for a train that will never come
Or scorched and longing on the horizon
Of a cruel dawn, shelterless, and her name
On my lips will revive me, Lalagé.
My blood sings the echo of her sweet laugh.
Note: This poem was written in Karl Kirchwey’s advanced creative writing seminar in 1997. Meredith Martin read with Karl Kirchwey (as well as with Elizabeth Alexander and Abe Louise Young) on December 4, 2007.
Meredith Martin reads at Smith December 4, 2007
More poems (and longer bio) by Meredith Martin