The White Ship (34) Poem by David McLansky

(34) The Citadel


We stood an island in the stream
Of faces looking tired and mean
An isle of rescue in the crowd
I held you with an arm so proud

They swarmed about us in a flow
People rushing, pressed to go
Pushing, bumping, annoyed, alert,
We stood as rocks, alive, inert.

And yet their movement showed respect
For lovers bundled in love’s net;
We clutched in timeless desperation
With love’s naïve exaggeration.