by franz wright, from walking to martha's vineyard
first the telephone went,
then
the electricity.
it was cold,
and they both went to sleep
as though dressed for a journey.
like addictions condoned
from above evening
fell, lost
leaves waiting
to come back as leaves---
the long snowy divorce. . .
that narrow bed, a cross
between an altar
and an operating table. voice
saying, while i was alive
i loved you.
and i love you now.
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