THINKING AGAIN OF THAT IRISH WRITER WHO, WHEN HE WON A PULITZER, QUOTED YEATS

“In moments of great joy we’re confronted by the knowledge that tragedy lurks around the corner:”

“I will miss you especially,”
that last hug before Japan.
This clear Sunday light
early on the metro to
ballet, always trying to
keep what I can’t,
stumbling thru paper,
clothes, the longing.
The lost birds and horses
with their nests in my
heart and my mother’s
last words, a cove
of the lost, a tangle
of what’s discarded,
camouflaged maybe,
waiting for some
thing to grow there

by Lyn Lifshin