Rachel Hadas Poems

A Greek I worked for once would always say
that tragedies which still appall and thrill
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Sweet smell of phlox drifting across the lawn—
an early warning of the end of summer.
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So far the nights feel lonelier than the days.
In light, the living keep me company,
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Sing now the heavy furniture of the fall,
the journey's ending. Strong Aeneas bears
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Dreams draw near at dawn and then recede
even if you beckon them.
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Impressionist painters capture sun
sparkling over waves as slots and bars
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Saturday, April 5. Welles's Othello:
black and white grid of rage,
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As if because you lay
(deeply embarrassing) inside
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Doomed beauties, my companions, my familiars,
your long arms braceleted with snakes of danger,
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Down milk-bright colonnades
the leper's bell recedes.
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