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For My Husband


ISSUE:  Autumn 1944

First weeping, thrusting sharply comfort away,
Wrenches open forever, floodgate’s break;
First watching sees on screen of night dismay Unfolding reel on reel, stares, cannot check;
First waking, pierced, contracting where it lay,
Cries, grinding bone of fist on bone of cheek,
Forever, being no longer than today.
Is little for the heart to undertake.
Time, prism, refracts presently ray by ray,
Makes manageable the aghasting light that struck;
Hand, longest educated, will obey,
Remembering to dress, write, patch, and cook;
Nerve, learning to withhold itself, grants stay,
Admits, though sourly for convenience’ sake,
Forever, being no longer than today,
Is little for the heart to undertake.
After interval, miracle; translation; change of key;
For in my image rising whole and quick,
Replacing ingrown pities, proof to decay,
Enters another, mother-bold, maid-meek,
Wife-tender, drawing from chrysalis cliche The damp tight wing, angelic, knowing with a look Forever, being no longer than today.
Is little for the heart to undertake.
—Graciously let this speaker of ineffables say What stubborn shame determines not to speak: Forever, being no longer than today,
Is little for the heart to undertake.

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