Night, Dim Night, And It Rains, My Love, It Rains* Poem by Bernard Henrie

The Christmas lighted ferry is dangerous
this time of year, the flooded black river
runs to tangling moss from bank to bank
and sly snapping turtles. Kiss me for luck
as I embark with my cardboard valise
of worthless wrist watches I sell in Delhi.
If I am naked when you visit my rooms
no need to avert your eyes, love knows
no shame. In the first embers of evening
I see a shadow on the ceiling, hieroglyph
of our intimate embrace. The wash stand
and pitcher know you, all men stand silent
as you pour water, mute as though spying
on the bathing women of the Ganges.

*Title from a poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar