To A Dead Lover Poem by Louise Bogan

To A Dead Lover

Rating: 3.3

The dark is thrown
Back from the brightness, like hair
Cast over a shoulder.
I am alone,

Four years older;
Like the chairs and the walls
Which I once watched brighten
With you beside me. I was to waken
Never like this, whatever came or was taken.

The stalk grows, the year beats on the wind.
Apples come, and the month for their fall.
The bark spreads, the roots tighten.
Though today be the last
Or tomorrow all,
You will not mind.

That I may not remember
Does not matter.
I shall not be with you again.
What we knew, even now
Must scatter
And be ruined, and blow
Like dust in the rain.

You have been dead a long season
And have less than desire
Who were lover with lover;
And I have life—that old reason
To wait for what comes,
To leave what is over.

Michael Morgan 28 August 2015

A fitting retort to the philistines who sniggered about her sexuality

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Thomas James Martin 02 March 2015

Beautifully written and expressed! Very touching and thanks for sharing.....

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Edward Kofi Louis 02 March 2015

Nice piece of work. Thanks for sharing this poem with us. E.K.L.

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John Richter 02 March 2015

Incredibly touching poetry. I so wish that I could write like this...

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