Treasure Island

Robert Leary

(New London, Connecticut)

Return To You

I awake
having rummaged the blind embodiment
of bloodshot credulties beguiling
search for clean veins, one stop
friendships, night trains
in the mind of some insipid highball.
Through all this your figure
on the bed oppresses, magestic
not only in the bare fact
it's remained these years...

Soft against thin ears of reception
the morning like a fevered child awakens
in the head dim pulse of recognition.
As light embraces shells of a sun-faced shore
far off the eyes come unto their own.

Sleep dredges from the body. A barge
on way to its tender, open and
moving in the grace of duty, alone
yet not seperate from a pace
that is the grace of waking.

The shore of rooms, doors shut
in shadows between tables of wood
and island devices of an idle day ignite
through windows fuses the sight that seems
at one with all seen and friendless

in the night we come from with our dreams
stuck behind moments yet forgotten to be
remembered only as chances to escape
the importance of action, the city of the mind
on duty behind car mirror remembrances.

Submitted: Monday, September 06, 2010
Edited: Sunday, July 01, 2012
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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Harvard Advocate
Fall 1971

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