(6 January 1878 – 22 July 1967 / Illinois)


You came from the Aztecs
With a copper on your fore-arms
Tawnier than a sunset
Saying good-by to an even river.

And I said, you remember,
Those fore-arms of yours
Were finer than bronzes
And you were glad.

It was tears
And a path west
and a home-going
when I asked
Why there were scars of worn gold
Where a man’s ring was fixed once
On your third finger.
And I call you
To come back
before the days are longer.

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Comments (1)

Wonderful poem.Nicely written.