Ulysses Sailing In London Poem by Bernard Henrie

Ulysses Sailing In London

I pour out my cantos, my folio,
my patched story; dim mumble
in the blackened confessional.
Love's rough hour, luck runs thin.

The horse park of Baroness
Thatcher, dew wetting shoes
and cuffs; June for the cypress
and yews, a flock of heavy birds
moving in long queues.

The Times opened by the coffee
canteen, my nature to burn love
to the ground.

Home alone, evening dress or carpet
slippers, in the midst of marriage,
caring for a parent; my gloved
interior I cannot make-out in
the water closet mirror.

Street lights burn in a trance.
a woman’s slip on a clothesline
in the East End docks;

the smell of our Thames River
falls like black opium on a bus
of Greek tourists.

The first hour of an all-day rain,
wind dying; the shapeless night
a divine animal in shallow water.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Gajanan Mishra 07 June 2013

all-day rain, I like it, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.

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