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More poems by John BerrymanJohn Berryman | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by John BerrymanBooks by John Berryman

Dream Song 127: Again, his friend's death made the man sit still

John Berryman

Again, his friend's death made the man sit still
and freeze inside—his daughter won first price—
his wife scowled over at him—
It seemed to be Hallowe'en.
His friend's death had been adjudged suicide,
which dangles a trail

longer than Henry's chill, longer than his loss
and longer than the letter that he wrote 
that day to the widow
to find out what the hell had happened thus.
All souls converge upon a hopeless mote
tonight, as though

the throngs of souls in hopeless pain rise up
to say they cannot care, to say they abide
whatever is to come.
My air is flung with souls which will not stop
and among them hangs a soul that has not died
and refuses to come home.

Added: 5 Aug 2002 | Last Read: 22 Oct 2018 4:09 AM | Viewed: 4362 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/5707/ | Viewed on 22 October 2018.
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