Idaho Dawn/ The Death Of Ernest Hemingway

On that quiet dawn in Idaho
did you remember Montparnasse,
the cheery banter at the Dome,
good bread smells, spattering
chestnut husks and orange peel
on a garret fire in winter?

Did you see Gertrude’s peasant face
amid young Picasso’s glory,
embrace the barnacled Irishman,
scold the prince of bottled dreams,
weep for the mentor in his cage,
and rejoice in geniuses together?

Did you watch Joselito strut again
in the bloody sand at Cordoba,
savouring the triumph and the lust,
and run the glorious Gulf Stream,
crying hallelujah to the ocean kings,
drift free at dusk from Harry’s Bar?

Did you meet the healer by the lake,
watch the beginnings of a life
with a slash, a scream and a prayer,
and talk forgiveness, saying stuff
you should have said way back?
Ain’t love the damndest word!

On that quiet dawn in Idaho
what were your last thoughts
as you moved with hunter’s stealth
while your adoring Mary slept,
chose your best loved weapon,
and laid bare a writer’s mind?

by John C Bird

Other poems of BIRD (2)

Comments (1)

I like this poem, but it lacks closure.