Treasure Island

David McLansky

(5/24/1944 / New York City)

The White Ship (2)


(2) Hospital Room

She has a smile that flashes white
That lights my soul within her sight,
A pleasant, teasing, mocking manner
That makes this lawyer prone to stammer.

There's such a gayness in her soul,
She'd light a lamp in dark Sheol,
A singing in her every word,
A chirping sprite, my singing bird.

Now in silence she lays there,
I speak my vows in open prayer,
Come my wife, my sparkling bird,
Grant me treasure, my name, a word.

But sleeps she on, her lips at rest,
I lay my head upon her breast;
I hear her heart, beat-beat repeating,
A lonely sound that mocks our meeting.

Submitted: Friday, March 01, 2013
Edited: Saturday, March 02, 2013

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